


Bokuto's Moving Castle

by 0Sora_the_Explora0



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Howl's Moving Castle AU, M/M, also rating will eventually change but it'll be like the last chapter so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 45,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24941932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0Sora_the_Explora0/pseuds/0Sora_the_Explora0
Summary: Akaashi Keiji leads a quiet, boring life tending to his father's clock shop, in a kingdom on the brink of war. He's settled into his mundane life, never expecting anything more- until he's quite literally swept off his feet by the great, powerful, and handsome wizard, Bokuto Koutarou, and thrust into a strange adventure that terrifies him as much as it excites him.This is honestly just a very self indulgent Howl's Moving Castle AU but it's BokuAka. The plot will follow the Ghibli movie very closely, with a few things differing here and there.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 60
Kudos: 36





	1. An Exciting Encounter, A Fateful Curse

**Author's Note:**

> Hi yeah so my roommates watched Howl's Moving Castle the other day and I immediately thought of BokuAka and then I spent way too much time watching the movie and meticulously taking notes on the plot so I could get this right. Please enjoy this thing that has kept me up at night for almost a week now as I attempt to tackle this beautiful story and recklessly jam Haikyuu characters into it left and right. 
> 
> Also please note that this is based on the film ONLY, not the novel, and that I will be following the plot fairly closely, with minor changes here and there. 
> 
> Also Kiyoko and Keiji are siblings in this because I needed to fill the role of Letty and they could pass as siblings, nobody can tell me otherwise.

It’s a peaceful day. The sun is bright overhead, and the blue sky is dotted with fluffy clouds that meander lazily along, as if they hadn’t a care in the world. They don’t, of course. Clouds don’t care about the war that the kingdom is locked in; they don’t care about the affairs of mortals at all. They’re just content to drift along and mingle together or drift apart freely- there is no favoritism among them. 

Akaashi Keiji stares up at them in envy from the small window at the back of the clock and watch shop; his hands are surrounded by little cases with gears, tiny screws, glass pieces, and various other tools of the trade. There’s a delicate pocket watch in his palm, all but forgotten as he watches the careless clouds drift by- until, that is, he feels the whole room vibrate and shake and a train whistles by on the tracks below the window. His view is obscured by thick plumes of black smoke that rise up from below his line of sight, and with a sigh, he turns back to his work and carefully screws the last piece back together. He’s reaching for his polishing rag to buff the silver casing, and doesn’t notice when Yachi approaches his open door, and raps lightly against the wood three times to pull back his attention.

“Akaashi? It’s closing time. We were planning on going out for dinner together if you’d like to join us?” She says, a polite smile on her face as she tucks a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Behind her, Tanaka, Yamaguchi, and Suzumeda are chatting together a bit animatedly, about probably nothing of particular importance. 

“Thank you, Yachi, but I’d like to finish this project before I leave for the evening.” Akaashi says, giving her a small bow from his position at his seat. He doesn’t miss the way her smile wavers in disappointment- and maybe, he thinks, a little pity. 

“Alright, Akaashi. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then! Try not to work too hard.” She says, turning out of the doorframe just as Tanaka gasps in his sort of obnoxious way, and Akaashi’s eyes move past Yachi to see the other three crowding around the window in the other room. 

“That’s Bokuto’s castle! Whoa! Look, you can see it from here!” Tanaka gasps, and Yamaguchi is shoving him to the side to see. 

“Wow! That’s so cool! Oh, but kinda scary too, right?” Yamaguchi says, eyes glued to some distant thing that Akaashi cannot see

“How’s that scary? Isn’t he some awesome, powerful wizard?” Tanaka asks, and then a chorus of disappointed ‘aww’s immediately follows for some reason. 

“It disappeared!” Suzumeda gasps, and Yamaguchi sighs beside her. 

“Probably for the best. He steals hearts, you know? Eats them so he can be more powerful.”

“Ooh, but only from the prettiest girls he can find, right?” Yachi joins in now, having moved away from Akaashi’s door entirely, and then he tunes them all out as they head for the door and leave him in peace. 

He doesn’t spend much longer on the watch, just gives the casing a decent enough polish and sets it carefully aside. He has somewhere else to be, and as much as he’d rather linger in the calming space of his workshop, with the steady ticking of his watches and clocks keeping him focused, he can’t just hide away in his little sanctuary forever. 

The workstation is meticulously cleared away before he can leave, with every loose gear tucked neatly back into its proper box, and each tiny screwdriver arranged in its case. If he left it messy, he was guaranteed to find all his little bits and baubles strewn out over the floor- courtesy of the vibrations from the train coming by and knocking it all loose. He’d only needed a single day to learn his lesson with leaving things loose. 

When everything is in its place, he reaches for the beat-up, broken fob watch that watches over him every day while he works. It had been his father’s, once, and while he has the ability to repair it, he’s just… never gotten around to it. 

That’s what he tells himself, anyway. It isn’t like he can’t bring himself to look at the broken clock face that would need parts replaced to be functional again (he can’t separate the original parts). Not like he has an aversion to the delicate inscription on the inside casing- a message from his father wishing him a full and happy life (there is no stopping the tears when he thinks about that for… any amount of time, really). 

He just hasn’t gotten around to it, and that’s that. 

On the way out, he hesitates by the waist-length mirror at the wall near the watches- put there by Yachi who insisted it was for customers, despite the amount of time she spends playing with her hair in it- and frowns at his reflection. He looks exhausted, with his thin-framed glasses highlighting the bags below his slate-blue eyes. His hair is tied back in a short ponytail, but too many curls have slipped loose and hang annoyingly around his face. It looks sloppy and unkempt, in his opinion. Not to mention the drab, faded gray blazer on his shoulders, thin black slacks, and off-white button down that just made him look…

Plain. That’s probably the best word to describe him. His dull personality doesn’t make his uninteresting looks any more tolerable.

He forces himself to look away at the disheartening thought, and strides out towards the back door without dwelling on it any further. The door clicks shut behind him, but he can’t quite hear it over the sudden, loud hum from the flurry of airplanes overhead. He looks up at them- small little things not meant for much more than personal transportation or for show. He expects they’re likely going to be in the parade across town, and the thought that he’s about to head into the overcrowded center of town is… less than appealing. 

But Kiyoko is waiting for him, and he has never been one to let down his family; especially not his sister who, really, is his whole world now. He checks again to be sure that his watch is properly secured inside his blazer, and then locks the door behind him before heading out of the small courtyard between the shop and his apartment. 

There is a good distance he has to walk before he can catch the trolley, but he’s used to the exercise and doesn’t mind the time alone to let his thoughts drift. Moments when he is unhindered by work or social obligations are few and far between, and even at night, alone in his little apartment, his mind is usually burdened by his job and the ever-looming anxiety of coming war.

He’s free, now, to let his mind wander back to the castle his coworkers had spotted. Although he’s lived in this little town at the edge of the Wastes his whole life, he’s never managed to catch a glimpse of the legendary castle himself. Rumors have passed by his ears about it, and about the wizard that dwells within. Few people can agree on what exactly the man looks like, but the general consensus is that he’s a young, attractive man who charms women to his arms and then devours their hearts for the power their beauty and young love brings him. 

Not that he pays that much mind to the rumors. The castle never lingered for long, so he didn’t understand how the wizard would have the time to woo women away to his clutches. Perhaps he was just a man who preferred his solitude, and wanted to remain unbothered. 

What Akaashi wouldn’t give to live that free, peaceful kind of life. 

The closer he gets to the trolley tracks, the louder the streets become. Everyone is dressed in their best celebration clothes and heading towards where the parade is to be held, and Akaashi sucks in a shocked breath at how packed the trolley is already. He’ll have to hang out the door and hold the railing if he wants to catch a ride. For a moment, he debates just walking to the bakery, but a glance at the wristwatch of a nearby gentleman tells him that he doesn’t have the time for that. 

Reluctantly, he hops onto the thin, metal bottom step of the trolley, holding the bronze railing lining the side of the open doorway tightly to be sure he doesn’t fall. So many people are crowded into the interior that Akaashi feels himself being shoved a bit by a stray elbow or shoulder, and he clings tighter to the rail as discomfort settles in his chest. 

By the time he steps off the trolley- barely a block from the parade and still in the thick of a crowd- he feels ice cold with anxiety, and he keeps his head down as he weaves through the celebrating townsfolk towards the back alleys. Soldiers are mingling around as well, dressed in their flashy, ceremonial uniforms that would do them no good in any actual battle. Most of them are young men only a little older than himself- and none of them seem to have the good sense that what they’re doing is pointless. 

Nobody seems to take the war seriously. They keep believing that the enemy kingdom will back down, or come to their senses- but the truth is that the king of Nekoma was a ruthless man who would not rest until his son was returned. Thousands of these young men would lose their lives in the battles, and yet-

They meandered the streets carelessly and cheered and flirted and danced without a thought in their heads beyond impressing pretty girls and bringing them home. 

Akaashi cannot bring himself to look at the soldiers, more than a little intimidated by their bravado and posturing. He is not confident like they are. He has nothing to prove, because there is nobody he needs to prove anything to. 

Sweet relief from the crowd comes in the form of the alley entrance, which he slips gratefully into and sighs out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The busy sounds of the celebration fade the further he walks, weaving between buildings and keeping his head down to avoid meeting the eyes of the few soldiers scattered through the back streets. He’s not entirely sure why they’re lingering there, but he pays them no mind and keeps on his way. 

Until, that is, a pair of pristine black leather boots come directly into his downcast field of vision, blocking his path. He tries to step around, but the boots just shift in front of him again and refuse to let him past. 

“Hey there, what’s got you in such a rush, little bird?” Comes the voice of the soldier in front of him- teasing and smug. Anxiety grips in his chest as his eyes follow up long legs, a uniformed chest, and finally settle on a lazily smirking face curtained by light brown hair that’s been artfully ruffled around the soldier’s face. The man’s hand leans against the wall in front of him, caging him in a way that has him stepping back just as another soldier steps around from the corner. This one has thick brows, and a mess of blonde hair with a dark undercut that Akaashi thinks is probably difficult to maintain- and entirely too flashy to be appropriate for a soldier. 

“Ooh, what’ve we got here, Oikawa? Little birdie lose his way?” The second soldier looks and sounds equally cocky, and his eyes rake slowly down and back up Akaashi’s form. 

Akaashi has to repress the shiver that threatens to give away his fear. 

“I’m expected somewhere soon. I would like to pass.” Akaashi says, looking back down to avoid their gazes. His hands lace together nervously; normally steady fingers tremble as he tries to move past again and is cut off by the second soldier in his way. 

They don’t seem to be taking no for an answer. 

“Why the long face, sweetheart? We don’t mean any harm, c’mon, today’s supposed to be a celebration, yeah?” The blonde one says, leaning closer into Akaashi’s face and making him suck in a nervous breath and step back again. 

“Relax, birdie, we’ll show you a good time. Promise.” The brunette continues, reaching a finger out to trail under his jaw and force his chin up to meet his gaze again. 

Akaashi feels nauseous, and he knows he must look nervous when the two soldiers just coo at him and let their smiles go a little sympathetic. He jerks away, and squares his shoulders, and is about to turn and run in the other direction. 

Until a warm, comforting arm slides carefully around his shoulders and gives him a small, reassuring squeeze, and an oddly pleasing voice rings out near his ear.

“Hey, there you are. I looked everywhere for you. Sorry I lost you.” 

He looks up, confused and just a little nervous (which, considering the circumstances, he should be a  _ lot  _ more anxious, but…), and his breath immediately catches in his throat at the handsome man smiling warmly down at him. 

He has a strong jaw, and sharp brows, and molten gold eyes that shine like the sun itself. His hair is black as the night, and styled up out of his face in wild spikes that would look ridiculous if they didn’t accentuate his features and make him look all the sharper. He’s also taller than Akaashi, and has a muscular body that makes the clockmaker feel… secure. 

And he’s well dressed. Black pants that hug his thighs perfectly, a white blouse that’s frilled at the low-cut hemline and gives a tantalizing peek at defined collarbones, and a black, white, and gold patterned coat draped loosely over his broad shoulders. A simple necklace with a teardrop amber gem hangs low around his neck, and a pair of smaller, matching gems dangle from his earrings. 

Altogether he’s… stunning, and Akaashi feels his heart skip a beat when the stranger seems to catch him staring and offers a bright grin. 

“Hey, buddy, we’re kinda busy here, right, Atsumu?” The brunette soldier huffs, snapping Akaashi’s attention back to the current situation, and his stomach drops again. 

“Yeah, if ya could just do us a favor an’ move along-” The blonde starts, but he’s cut off when the mystery man just hums, amused, and pulls Akaashi a little tighter against his side. 

“You know, I could be wrong but aren’t you guys supposed to be lining up for the parade right about now? Should probably hop to that?” 

And then something strange happens. Out of the corner of Akaashi’s eye, he sees the stranger raise a hand to chest-height swiftly, and at the movement the soldiers go stiffly upright. Both of the soldiers look visibly shocked- even more so when the stranger’s index finger sticks out and rotates in a little circle, and their bodies turn about-face. Both of them are making indignant, confused noises, but can’t quite manage to get anything out as they march around and away from Akaashi and the stranger, seemingly guided by the stranger’s hand that casually drifts in the same direction that the soldiers move. 

“That was pretty uncomfortable, huh?” The stranger says, and Akaashi stares up at him in silent amazement and gratitude. “Where to? I’ll walk with you.” 

Akaashi blinks, frozen in place, and blinks again. He expects the man to vanish, somehow, but when he just smiles down at him and urges him a step forward, Akaashi goes with him. 

“I’m… the bakery, um, I’m supposed to meet my sister…” Akaashi finally mutters out, forcing himself to tear his gaze away and look ahead at the path they’re now both headed down. 

“Well, then, let’s get you there!” The man says, his arm firm around Akaashi’s shoulders, and his side warm where the clockmaker is pressed against him. Whoever this charming man is, he’s very real. 

“Uh, thank you, can I ask your-” 

“Hey, I don’t want to alarm you,” the stranger cuts him off, his voice low and a little urgent, and he nearly stumbles when he’s urged to walk along a bit faster, “-but it appears that we aren’t alone. Do me a favor? Act natural, okay?” 

Akaashi feels ice shoot through his veins, and shivers ripple down his spine, but he nods anyway and does not turn around when he hears an unnatural squelching sound in the alley behind them. 

Especially when the sounds grow louder, and multiply rapidly. 

Their pace picks up again, and he finds himself pulled sharply around a corner with a quiet, “This way,” from the stranger. The unsettling wet noises continue slipping out behind him, and it seems like they’re growing closer and closer behind him. Akaashi still does not turn to see what is causing them. 

Soon he finds he does not have to turn to locate the source of the sound. 

“Sorry, I think I may have gotten you involved.” The man says, just before dark, gooey shapes begin to melt out of the walls- vaguely humanoid bodies that are faceless and dressed in suits colored various shades of green and cream. 

Magical creatures. Intimidating creatures that have Akaashi gasping and subconsciously pressing closer to the solid body beside him. The figures swiftly fill the space in the alley before him, tumbling over each other as they block the pair’s every path, and Akaashi swallows thickly in fear for what the things might do to them. 

Until the stranger speaks again, his voice lilting up with amusement, and his hand dropping from Akaashi’s shoulder to wrap securely around his waist instead. 

“Hold on tight to me, okay?” 

Akaashi barely has a second to process; the creatures are rushing at them from all sides even as they keep their steady pace, and he’s only just curled his hand around the strong one at his waist as his other arm throws around the stranger’s back to cling to him when-

There’s a rush of air, and a moment of nauseating dizziness as the alley blurs around them, and suddenly he’s looking down at the town from the air above the rooftops. All the air leaves his lungs at the beautiful (and frankly,  _ terrifying _ ) view now presented to him. Butterflies explode in his stomach and gooseflesh erupts down his arms and the nape of his neck as the weightless, floaty feeling that takes over him, and his legs curl up under him as if he’s bracing himself to fall. 

The arm around his waist slides carefully up his back, and then Akaashi feels himself being gently maneuvered in front of the stranger and a bit to the side, and both of his hands are tightly grasped in gentle hands. 

“It’s okay, relax, just straighten out your legs and follow my lead.” Says the cheery voice, just beside his ear. He finds himself following the instructions, despite the initial terror worming its way through his limbs. He can’t help but keep his eyes downcast, watching the town slowly begin to move below them as…

As they walk. Through the air. Just like that, as if it were no different from the cobblestone streets below. 

Akaashi’s heart is pounding wildly, and he can feel heat in his cheeks when he looks back at the man- who he is  _ positive _ now is a wizard- and is greeted with bright eyes and a wide grin. He can’t help but feel a little dazed at it. This handsome wizard has just literally swept him off his feet, and was looking at Akaashi like he was genuinely enjoying his company. 

Plain, boring Akaashi. 

“You’re doing great! Keep it up, just like that, you’re a natural!” the wizard says, eyes trained firmly on the clockmaker as their feet briefly step down on a round finial at the top of a building, and then step off it right back into the sky. 

“Is this real?” Akaashi finds himself asking, slightly breathless as he looks back down to see the unobservant crowd beneath them; dancing and watching the parade and drinking. Not a single person saw them, it seemed, and he wondered if they’d see even if they did lift their gaze skyward. 

“I hope so! I’m having a good time, aren’t you?” 

“It’s…” Akaashi struggles to find the right word, but his mind is reeling, and there is no way to describe it other than, “... incredible.”

Boisterous laugh startles him slightly, and his head jerks back up to see the other man’s face lit up in amusement. He finds himself smiling, too, and a few slightly hysterical giggles bubble out from his chest. 

This is  _ insane _ . 

For the rest of his life, this would be the only truly interesting thing to ever happen to him. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself! I got a little worried back there, you know? It’s not usually my style to leave such a bad first impression.” The wizard hums, and Akaashi feels a solid chest press just a little closer to his back as his hands are grasped even more firmly. 

He should be terrified right now. He should be demanding to be let down- for this strange man to go away and never come back. He’s just been exposed to a threat to his life just by being in the wizard’s company, and yet-

And yet he feels a sort of peace as they float along over the busy streets; he feels excited and joyous and it’s so, so dangerous but he can’t bring himself to be afraid. It’s sort of an addicting feeling, and he can’t help but be disappointed when the bakery comes into view, and they start to slowly descend towards it. 

He doesn’t want to go.

“I don’t think you could have given me a  _ better _ first impression.” Akaashi mutters, quiet enough that apparently the wizard doesn’t hear him over the wind that suddenly rushes in his ears and whips his clothes almost violently against his frame. He shivers, and the hand that had been slipped into his left palm pulls away and instead rests against his hip to tug him closer to the stranger’s chest. 

“Sorry about the cold. We’re almost there.” The man says, and Akaashi can only nod and cover the hand at his side with his own. He knows he’s blushing- he can feel the warmth in his cheeks- and so he turns his face away a bit in the hopes that the wizard can’t see how flustered he’s become. 

He could always blame it on the wind, though.

All too soon, they’re floating lower and lower, until Akaashi’s feet land solidly on the balcony above the bakery, and the wizard carefully helps him down from his perch on the railing. The hand at his side comes away from him, but the one still holding his palm lingers a little and twirls Akaashi to face the wizard. The man is still smiling, wide and warm and… beautiful. There’s warmth in his eyes, too, and Akaashi doesn’t want to look away. He doesn’t want the man to leave. 

“Those things are still out there, so I’m gonna try and make them chase me instead. You should probably stick around here for a while, though, okay? Just to be safe.” The wizard says, still standing on the railing and towering over Akaashi- but he doesn’t feel intimidated like he felt with the soldiers. With this man, he only feels enchantment and awe. 

He wants to ask his name. What comes out instead is a breathy, “Okay,” and the man’s lips split into a bright grin as he straightens up and his hand finally begins to slip away from Akaashi’s.

“That’s my boy.” The wizard says, and then he jumps backwards off the balcony and floats for a split second before dropping down towards the busy street below. Akaashi inhales sharply, eyes wide, but when he rushes to look over the railing, the man has already vanished into the sea of people covering every inch of the street. 

_ Was this all a dream _ ? He thinks, exhaling slowly and backing away from the railing to stare off in the direction that they’d floated in from. His heart is pounding in his chest, and his face is still burning with heat. Whether it’s from his own blood rushing to his cheeks or just from the wind, he can no longer tell. 

It’s all a bit hazy for a few minutes after that- someone rushes up and is talking excitedly at him, and he just nods along without fully understanding what they’re saying. He’s led inside, and he thinks he’s told to wait there, so he does. His eyes keep drifting to the window, looking out at the bright, clear blue sky, and the cottony clouds that drift innocently by. 

And he smiles, because he thinks he finally understands how they feel. 

“Keiji!” 

Reality snaps back into place at the distressed sound of his sister’s voice, and he startles a little when he catches sight of her face and how frantic she looks. Her normally calm, pretty face is pinched in concern- her eyebrows drawn together, eyes wide, and teeth gnawing into her glossy lower lip. She’s even got a strand of long, dark hair hanging around her face that must have slipped loose from her otherwise perfect hairdo, and her thin fingers reach up to tuck the strand back behind her ear as she tries to compose herself. 

“Hey, Kiyoko.” Keiji greets, smiling a little sheepishly and stepping closer to wrap her up in a hug. Her hands fly to his back and cling desperately into his blazer, like she’s scared he’ll disappear if she doesn’t hold him tight enough. 

“Keiji, are you okay? Kaori said you floated down out of the sky with some strange man!” She says, pulling back to look him over thoroughly, and a bit of tension eases out of her when she sees that he’s all in one piece.

“I… guess I wasn’t dreaming, then.” Keiji breathes, eyes drifting over to the window again. He still feels dazed, and doesn’t fully register it when someone comes out from a door behind him and says something to Kiyoko. He’s watching a tiny shrimp of a cloud struggle to keep up with its peers, until a hand waves in front of him and he blinks and looks guiltily back at Kiyoko, and gives an apologetic smile. She sighs, and takes his hand in her own, and tugs him towards the staircase. 

“It’s busy today, so I don’t have as much time to talk, but you’re coming with me.” She says, dragging him along behind her as she moves past the main floor and down into the stock room. He is seated firmly down atop a crate, and Kiyoko takes place beside him and pulls both his hands into her lap and holds them in a comforting way. But he doesn’t need to be comforted- he already feels peaceful and calm in a way that he hasn’t in a long, long time. 

He doesn’t tell her that, though, because she’s still looking at him in a worried way that makes him unable to face her fully.

“Will you tell me what happened, please?” She asks softly, giving his hands a gentle squeeze and stroking her thumbs across his knuckles like she used to when they were children and she was calming him down after a nightmare. 

Thinking back, he gazes blankly at the wall across from him, and takes a deep breath to steady himself. 

“I was on my way here. Some soldiers stopped me in the alley a few streets over. They wouldn’t leave me alone, and I…” he closes his eyes, and he can feel his shoulders relax as he remembers the way the wizard’s arm draped gently around them, “I was going to run away, but then he- that man, he came up and… sent them away. And then he offered to walk me here, to make sure that nobody else harassed me, but then there were these  _ things _ , monsters or something, that started to chase us and then suddenly I was  _ flying. _ ” He says, feeling a smile forming on his lips that he doesn’t even try to fight away. 

“Monsters, Keiji?” Kiyoko gasps, sounding even more distressed, and when Keiji opens his eyes again he sees her looking totally horrified, and her hands clutch harder around his. 

“They’re gone, now, I think.” He says quickly, looking down at their joined hands, and thinks about how differently the wizard’s hands felt around his- how big and strong and  _ warm _ . “I’m fine, Kiyoko, really. He… he was a gentleman. He saved me, and then he brought me here, and then he just… left.” It feels a little bitter to say out loud, and his smile falters and then fades entirely. “He didn’t hurt me. I think he may have just been a wizard travelling through.” 

“Wizards are dangerous, Keiji.” Kiyoko sighs, frowning at him and giving his hand a gentle tug to look back up at her. She waits until their eye-to-eye before continuing. “Are you positive he didn’t cast any sort of spell on you? You seem… out of it.” 

“I promise, I’m fine. Don’t you think you might be a little mystified if a handsome stranger took you flying through the sky?” 

Something in Kiyoko’s eyes shifts, then, almost suspiciously. “So you think he was handsome, do you?”

Keiji blinks as he realizes what he’s said, and feels himself flushing again and pulling his hands free from hers to cover his face with an embarrassed groan. He hadn’t meant to say that. It was  _ true _ , but still. 

“He- I- It’s just a description, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anyth-”

“What if it had been Bokuto, Keiji? What if he had stolen your heart?” Kiyoko interrupts, and he can practically  _ feel _ the way her hands are surely wringing together nervously now. When he peeks past his fingers still on his face, his suspicions are confirmed, and he has to reach out and cover her hands to keep her from twisting her fingers too hard. It was a nervous habit they shared, although he had mostly grown out of it by now. 

“That wouldn’t have happened anyways. Bokuto only steals pretty girls’ hearts, anyway. I’d be fine if I met him.” He’s not worried about that oddball wizard, anyway. His heart has already been stolen by a different wizard, anyway. 

He doesn’t even care about it, either. 

Kiyoko sighs, and looks down to smooth out the wrinkles in her pretty blue skirt. “You need to be more careful, is what I’m saying. You walk around all day like your head is in the clouds, and… oh, Keiji, you know I worry about you. I sometimes think you could walk right into the Waste Warlock and not even notice until you’re already cursed.” She says, meeting his eyes with genuine concern and a frown turning down her full lips. 

“You’ll get wrinkles, Kiyoko.” He says, smiling gently at her. He brings a finger up to poke at her forehead teasingly, and she lightly bats his hand away with the barest hint of a smile. 

She looks like she’s about to say something, but just then one of her coworkers- his name is Ennoshita, Keiji thinks- comes around the corner and tells her that she’s needed back soon. She gives him an affirmative answer, and then stands and smoothes out her skirt over her petticoats again. Keiji goes up as well, and his hand subconsciously pats over the left side of his blazer to feel the shape of the fob watch against his breast. 

If Kiyoki sees him, she says nothing. 

She walks him to the back door, and Keiji catches sight of how packed the tiny bakery is and feels more than a little guilty for making his poor sister so worried in the brief amount of time she had free from the chaos. 

“I’m sorry.” He says when they reach the door, eyes on the ground and a hand lightly holding on to her long sleeve. Her head turns, to him, and there’s a soft, almost pitying smile on her face. 

He loves his sister. He does, but that smile immediately makes his heart break into a million little pieces, and he has to look away again. 

“I just want you to be alright, Keiji.” She says, pulling him close with her arms around his neck for another hug. “I want you to be happy.  _ Are _ you happy?” 

His hands pat her back gently, but then pulls away before he answers. 

“I’m fine. I have my work.”

“The shop can’t be your whole life, you know.”

“Dad…” Keiji’s throat feels thick, and he has to swallow around the lump there before he can finish, “He poured his heart and soul into that place. It’s important to me.”

Kiyoko doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press the issue further, not much anyway. “Just promise me you’ll try to do something for yourself every so often. You have to live your life the way you want to live it.”

He hates lying; hates lying to his sister all the more, but really, what’s he to do? He’s settled in his path, and there’s just… nothing else left for him. He resigned himself long ago to the life he lives. No point in deviating now. 

“I promise. Don’t worry so much about me.” 

“You know I can’t shut it off when my poor big brother is such an airhead.” She’s smiling again, more genuine and with a teasing glint in her eye that makes him huff and glare back at her. 

“I hope you drop a whole tray of bread, Kiyoko.”

She laughs, and leans up to press a kiss to his cheek, and then shoves at his shoulder. 

“Love you too, Keiji. Go home and get some rest.”

He just nods, and waves at her over his shoulder as he walks away. 

Luckily, none of the soldiers in the back alleys harass him on his way out. At first, he’s tempted to try his luck in the crowd, on the very thin chance that he runs back into the wizard- but then he remembers that the man is being followed by monsters, and feels a bit defeated as the thought is dismissed. Still, his eyes dart around every corner, paranoid, as though the goo creatures will start melting out of the walls around him again. They don’t, of course- the wizard had drawn them away- and he makes it safely back to the town’s main plaza and heads for the trolley station. 

It’s evening, now, and the sun is hanging low on the horizon. The sky is painted a pretty orange, and the clouds have gone pink and purple. Beautiful as it is, Akaashi can’t seem to focus on his surroundings as much as he normally does. His mind is occupied by liquid gold eyes, and a charming smile, and a solid warm body. And he can still clearly remember what it felt like to float weightlessly through the sky. Stepping off the trolley on the other side of the river feels almost… surreal. Each step he takes makes him feel heavier and heavier, and it makes his chest squeeze tightly in something like…

Like mourning. 

By the time he actually reaches the front door of the clock shop, his eyes feel hot and watery as reality truly,  _ finally _ sets back in. His little adventure was over, and now he’s back to routine. He can’t tell if he wants to just forget about the handsome wizard, or if he wants to cling to the memory with every ounce of his being. 

Either way he chooses, he will go to bed tonight alone. He will wake up tomorrow alone. He will open the shop, and repair broken clocks and watches- and, yes, his coworkers will be there, but he will still be alone. 

The key slides into the lock with practiced efficiency, and he slips into the shop silently and locks the door back behind him. He wants to go to bed immediately, but the register still needs to be counted for the day, and it’s been a while since the grandfather clocks have been dusted. 

He’s reaching for his feather duster when the bell over the door chimes out at him, and his breath catches as he turns and looks up with a racing heart to see a tall, hulking figure casually looking around the shop as if Akaashi is not even there. His eyes are narrow and slanted, and the smirk on his face looks more disdainful than friendly. Dark hair sits stylishly swept across his forehead, set under a wide-brimmed hat that glitters a deep, olive green under the low lights of the shop. Aside from the man’s head, though, Akaashi cannot make out any defining features on the man, as his body is fully covered with a dark cloak that is draped around his shoulders and hangs heavily around him. 

And he is absolutely  _ dripping  _ in jewelry. Gems set in ornate gold casings pattern all over the cloak and the hat, almost like lace in their intricacy. Gold thread is also embroidered all over in patterns that make Akaashi dizzy if he tries to make sense of them for too long. It looks like they’re moving.

“Ah, excuse me, sir, I’m very sorry but we’re closed for the evening.” Akaashi says, looking past the man at the door and frowning at the lock turned to open.  _ He swore he’s locked it _ -

“Clocks, hmm? How… mundane. What a boring little hoard you have here.” The stranger says- and if Akaashi was on edge before, he’s one foot over the railing, now. His voice sends shivers up the clockmaker’s spine, and anxiety settling low in his chest. 

Especially when those narrow, slanted eyes shift lazily to him, like the man could not be any less impressed by Akaashi, and his smile goes even more cruel. 

“Makes sense, though. You’re the most boring thing here.” 

And then, despite the gooseflesh rising on the back of his neck and arms, Akaashi feels angry, and he grits his teeth and squares his shoulders. 

“We’re closed, sir. The door is this way.” He says, barely restrained rage in his voice as he moves past the gaudy stranger and yanks the door open. A glare is leveled at the towering man, but the man just snickers and turns to face him head on. 

“Ah, and foolish, too. I commend you for your bravery, though, standing up to the Waste Warlock. It’d be cute if you weren’t so…” the man’s eyes look him over, once, and his grin goes even more taunting, “... plain.”

Akaashi’s blood goes cold, and his heart slams so hard against his ribcage he can hear it loud in his ears. 

“The… Waste… Warlock…?” He gasps, hand tightening around the doorknob in fear. He hears a familiar squelching behind him, and he whips around fast enough that it makes him dizzy. His legs go weak when those terrifying, awful creatures block out the doorway directly behind him, and leave him nowhere to run. 

“Yoohoo! Where do you think you’re looking, young man?” The Warlock says, calling Akaashi’s attention back to the powerful magician, just to see him grinning ferociously and spreading his arms wide beneath the cloak. His body dissolves to a thick black mist below the shoulders, and Akaashi is frozen in place as the figure charges forward- through him, over him, around him. 

And then he’s behind Akaashi, but the clockmaker cannot turn to look at him out of sheer, all-consuming terror, even as the grating voice comes again to wash over him like ice water. 

“Here’s something interesting, this little spell here? Makes it so you can’t tell anyone. Good luck with it, and let Bokuto know I’m coming for him soon, would you?” He laughs, and the door slams shut behind him and the lock clicks in place without Akaashi even needing to touch it. 

He can’t move for another few moments, trying to calm his breathing and the trembling he feels all over his body. Thoughts whirl violently in his mind, so fast he can’t properly grasp any of them long enough to stop and think about, and his hand subconsciously reaches up to pat at his blazer again-

The watch is gone. 

Panic doubles in his chest, and he’s spurred into motion as his eyes flick down and search the floor below his feet. The watch is sitting innocently by his feet, though, and he feels just a little calmer when he bends to reach it. 

Until he scoops it up in a hand that does not belong to him. A hand that is wrinkled and spotted with age; the hand of a withered old man. He almost drops the watch from shock alone, but barely manages to hold on as his other hand is brought up and inspected- only to be found in the same state as its twin. 

“What-” He stops, and gasps, when the voice that reaches his ears is raspy and deeper than it’s supposed to be, and in the next second he’s rushing to the customer mirror at the counter. His legs don’t want to cooperate fully with him, though, and he moves slower than he’s trying to, like he’s carrying a heavy blanket around his shoulders that drags him down with every step. 

And when he reaches the mirror, and the face that reflects back at him is that of an elderly man that shares almost nothing with him but his slate blue eyes and his curly hair, it feels like the whole world stops spinning. Time slows around him as he reaches his unoccupied hand up to touch his face, and the man in the mirror copies his motion. He doesn’t want to believe it, but he can feel the wrinkles under his fingertips when he smooshes them around and prods at his cheekbones. 

He feels nauseous. Dizzy. The normally calming ticking of the multitude of clocks around him fades away to the back of his consciousness, and he feels like he can’t breathe. 

“There’s no way.” He mutters, wincing again when the voice that is not his comes out of his mouth. The old man in the mirror copies his movements, and he closes his eyes and presses his palms against them hard enough to see stars, and then looks again. 

His reflection is still the old man. 

He can’t handle it. He’s exhausted, suddenly, and entirely  _ done _ with the whole affair. His earlier suspicion that the whole day has been a wild dream returns, and he thinks that it’s the only explanation. 

After all, his life is too predictable and mundane for anything this crazy to ever happen to him. 

He turns away from the mirror, then, and wanders to the back of the shop in a solemn daze, ready to just go to sleep and wake up tomorrow to return to his boring, fixed routine. The back door is locked behind him, and he crosses the small courtyard to the stairs leading up to his apartment, and has far too much trouble clambering up the steps. 

In the solitude of his small, unassuming bedroom, he feels a tiny bit more at peace, but he still pointedly refuses to look into his own mirror as he changes into his pajamas (with far more difficulty than he would have thought possible, but at least they still fit him), and curls up under the thin cover of his bed. 

His last conscious thought, before he slips away into sleep, is that  _ of course _ the first man to ever make him really  _ feel something _ was nothing more than a dream. One he would not remember in the morning. 


	2. A Journey, A Castle, A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi sets off to break his curse, but is not fully prepared for what he may come to face along the way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't stop updating stuff at 3am apparently oops

The room feels colder than it normally should. Akaashi pulls his cover closer around his shoulders, and still finds himself shivering from the chill. His eyes are shut tightly, unwilling to face the morning sun just yet despite the fact that he’s been awake for nearly an hour now, quietly miserable in the low temperature of the room. 

It’s still fairly early in the spring, so he expects that it’s only the remnants of winter lingering in the air, or the frosty breezes blowing in from the Wastes. His blanket is doing him no good, no matter how he tries to curl into himself to preserve heat. But his body is also aching in a way he’s unfamiliar with, and his joints are all stiff and sore. 

He’s probably coming down with a cold, is what he tells himself. 

No matter what he wants, though, he has to get out of bed sometime and tend to the shop. Even if all he wants is to lay there and bask in the better part of the dream he’d had. It’s disappointing that the handsome wizard was just a figment of his imagination that would likely fade away before the day’s end, but it’s also a relief that he isn’t some withered old husk of a man in the waking world.

Or, that’s what he thinks before he finally slips out of his bed and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’s almost scared at first; thinks that someone has broken into his room with the intent to rob him of his meager savings- 

But it’s just him. A warped, aged version of him, sure, but him all the same. 

“I really have been cursed…” he mutters to nobody in particular, inspecting his wrinkled face disdainfully in the mirror. No wonder his joints had been stiff. 

What surprises him most, though, is how…  _ okay _ with it he seems to be. There were worse things, he supposes, and perhaps his nonchalance is due to the fact that, right now, there is little to nothing he can do about it. He knows very little about spells and curses, but he does know that they can be undone or broken. 

And if this part was real, then that means the wizard is real. If Akaashi is lucky, maybe he can find the wizard again, and-

Ah, no, that man has already done him enough kindness. Asking more of him would just be rude, and it’s not like he knows where to find him anyways. 

The Waste Warlock, though… he’d cast the spell, so maybe he’s the one that has to break it. Akaashi really doesn’t have much to lose, anyway, and as much as it scares him, it seems that a trip to the Wastes is in order. 

Resolved, Akaashi goes through the slow and painstaking process of changing out of his pajamas, and he thinks again how glad he is that his clothes still miraculously fit him. If anything, he’s shrunk a bit, and his normally well-fitted blazer hangs loosely from his shoulders. Cold still seeps into his bones, so he throws on an extra overcoat and his favorite (but slightly worn) blue scarf. As always, his fob watch is tucked securely into his blazer pocket, though it feels just the tiniest bit heavier than normal.

A knock interrupts him just as he’s tying his shoes with fingers that probably have arthritis. Joy. 

“Keiji, dear?” It’s his mother. He’d forgotten she was coming today. 

“Don’t come in!” He shouts when the door begins to jiggle, and quickly shuffles back to the bed to throw his blanket over his head and face away from the entrance. “I… I don’t feel well! I think I’ve caught a bad cold!” 

“Oh, darling, you sound awful! Are you alright? Do you need me to bring you to the doctor?” Her voice would normally be comforting, but now it’s just a reminder that he has to leave her behind until he can get this whole situation sorted. 

“No, no, I’m just going to get some rest for now! Please let the others know not to worry, I’ll be alright.” He calls back, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself and staring blankly out the window as he awaits her leave. 

“Are you sure?” She asks, and he can hear the disappointment in her voice, but there’s really nothing to be done about it. Worrying over a cold seems like it’d take much less of a mental toll on her than an actual  _ curse _ from the  _ Waste Warlock.  _

“Yes, mother, I can handle it myself. Thank you.” 

“Alright, son… I love you very much, please do let me know whenever you’re feeling better?” 

“Of course. I love you too.” He says, and then breathes a sigh of relief when he hears the clacking of her heels fade away down the staircase. 

The shop will be fine without him, he tells himself again, and then shoves himself forward off of the bed again to stand. There’s no point in wasting any more time. The limitations of this spell are unknown to him, other than that he can’t talk about it, apparently. For all he knows, his burdened old body could fail any moment, and it terrifies him to think of. The sooner he can break this curse, the better. 

With another glance in the mirror- and the thought that at least his drab wardrobe finally suits him as an old man- he sneaks out of his room as silently as he is able. The shop will be distracted enough with his mother there to fuss over the state of things, so he isn’t too worried that he’ll be spotted when he slips into his downstairs kitchen to pack himself enough rations to last for… well, for a few days, at least. He can only hope that his journey will be swift, but he has a little money just in case things go awry and he needs to shop for more supplies. If there happens to be anywhere to shop, that is. 

Nobody seems shocked when they see him as he walks through town, so for once he’s glad that he doesn’t have many close connections that may have somehow recognized him. All he is to the passersby is another elderly man- an indistinguishable face in the crowd. It’s bittersweet, but he really shouldn’t be surprised anyway. He didn’t even recognize himself, after all. 

The streets are quieter today, now that the parade is over and half the folks attending have already gone back to their own homes in neighboring towns and villages. Soldiers are still everywhere- and he even spots the same duo that had harassed him yesterday. They don’t bother him this time, and he has to stifle a snicker when they walk by him without even glancing his way. He hears them mention something about the missing Nekoma prince- and how he’s probably just off chasing some skirt or another. That part has Akaashi scowling. Just another way they aren’t taking this war seriously. 

Fortune seems to be smiling on him a little, because when he reaches the outskirts of town, there’s a traveling merchant who’s heading out of town in the direction of the Wastes. He negotiates hitching a ride- and quickly fabricates a story about an ill granddaughter when the merchant asks his intent in going out so far. He’s a little proud of that bit, considering he’s only been an old man for a little over twelve hours. 

The merchant agrees, albeit fairly reluctantly, and Akaashi is glad until he has far too much difficulty climbing onto the back of the wagon. He’s given assistance, and has to bite back how embarrassed it makes him- especially because he’d been  _ so close _ to managing it on his own, it’s just that his knee won’t lift quite high enough for his foot to step up.

After that, though, the merchant takes to the reigns at the front of the wagon, and Akaashi is left to relax against the wood and watch the town he’s known all his life slowly shrink away in the distance. It’s warmed up a bit since he woke, but the wind is still sharp and a little biting against his unnaturally frail body. He’s reminded, suddenly, of how the wind had whipped through him in his little dance through the sky, and feels a smile spread across his lips in spite of himself. 

Even though his initial plans of seeking out that wizard have been long since abandoned, he can’t help some small part of him that hopes he bumps into him on his travels anyway. The man hadn’t seemed to care that he wasn’t much to look at, and was just a friendly stranger. Perhaps he’d even be kind enough to point him in the direction of someone else who could help him out of his predicament. 

Which, come to think of it, he isn’t sure is possible to begin with. How would he begin to explain the curse if he couldn’t talk about it in the first place? Did the curse have loopholes? Could he write it down? Pantomime it out? This was all just a bit trickier than he’d initially thought, but he’d… he’d manage, somehow. 

The merchant stops at a house just at the edge of the hills that border the Wastes. Akaashi offers to pay him, but his money is refused on the grounds of, “Well, you have to reach your granddaughter somehow, don’t you? Who am I to take advantage of your situation?” 

Akaashi is reminded of why he hates lying. If anyone had taken advantage, it’d been him, and the fact that the merchant was heading in the same direction was irrelevant. 

All the same, the merchant worries after him as he walks away, and he thinks he hears the young man (who is technically older than him, chronologically) call him crazy to a woman that might be his wife. Crazy doesn’t even begin to describe the situation, he thinks, but makes no further comment and just waves at the two over his shoulder. 

He’s actually a bit surprised at how much energy he still had in his body, despite the various aches and pains plaguing his body. His knees get the worst of it when he tries to battle the slopes of the hills, and he has to stop and rest more often than he’d like. There’s no way to check the time with his broken watch- he  _ really  _ should just fix the damn thing- but judging by the sun, it’s already well past noon. 

And he can still see the town when he turns to look over his shoulder. 

“Stupid legs.” He huffs, shuffling over to a decently sized boulder and lowering himself to sit atop it. Food is a necessity now; his stomach has been relatively calm thus far, but with all of the exertion of climbing the upward slopes of the hills, he’s starting to feel the tell-tale bubbling that he can normally ignore a little better. Seems this old body is more demanding than he previously expected. 

His lunch sack is untied with little ceremony, and he munches quietly on an apple and a simple slice of bread with a sliver of cheese atop it. At least his hunger is  _ satisfied _ more quickly, and his small meal restores some of his energy. 

He takes off again after tying off the sack again, but the slope of the hill only increases as he goes, and soon he’s struggling to breathe at the combination of the altitude as well as the exertion of his poor body. He’s getting nowhere fast enough like this. 

“What was I thinking…?” he laments, heart sinking as this whole endeavor begins to feel more and more pointless. Where was he going to sleep when the sun set? The cold wind was picking up, and a thick fog was descending down the hill towards him rapidly, and he’s having so much trouble with his  _ godforsaken knees _ locking up on him. 

  
  


Scanning the surrounding area for another place to rest, his eyes settle instead on a long, fairly straight branch poking out of a bush not too far from him. Well, it wasn’t perfect, but it might make a decent enough walking stick to help him move a little faster. 

Maybe his luck hasn’t run out, after all. 

The thing is stuck quite firmly in the branches of the bush when he goes over to inspect it, but he’s determined enough to try and pull it free anyway. 

He hates the look of his wrinkled hands when they curl around the middle of the branch, but he can’t keep up his pity party forever. If it all works out, this is only a temporary condition. It really sort of is like being sick, and the small comfort that thought brings him brightens his mood enough to really give it his all when he tugs at the branch. The thing is buried worse than he’d initially thought, but he’s confident he can free it if he tries hard enough. 

“Come on, stupid thing!” He rasps, muscles aching from the strain of pulling the stick this way and that. There’s a conveniently placed rock just below the stick, and he thinks that perhaps if he can use it as a fulcrum, it’ll ease a bit of his struggle. Or it could snap in half, but he’d rather break the stick than his own bones. 

He lowers it carefully, and then groans as he gives a firm push- and the sound of smaller twigs and branches from the bush breaking gives him some hope. At least the stick is moving a bit more now, so he wiggles it from side to side a little to free it up a bit more from whatever it’s tangled on, and then uses his makeshift fulcrum again to push it down even harder than before. 

And with a loud snapping sound, the bush opens up, and he falls forward with the force of his push suddenly losing resistance. Since he wasn’t too far from the ground to begin with, he doesn’t hurt himself when he falls and catches himself on his hands, but he is a little bit dizzy. 

He feels twice as dizzy when he looks back up and sees the stick standing totally upright, by itself, and with a body attached to the top. It takes him a moment to calm down, thinking that the figure is yet another blasted goo creature- but it’s just a scarecrow. A scarecrow with a turnip for a head, and a top hat, and straw hair poking down and covering one of its drawn-on eyes. 

“How-” he starts, blinking as he looks down and sees that, indeed, the thing really is just…  _ standing _ . On its own. “You’re just a scarecrow…” 

And then it hops twice, right before his eyes, and he sucks in a breath. But he’s not afraid, just a little off-put. The grin on its face is wide, and even though it’s just a silly drawing, it’s… warm, somehow. 

“Are you cursed, too?” He asks, shuffling to his feet and putting his hands on his hips to gaze up at the tall thing towering over him. It hops twice again, and then starts hopping around side to side around him, and he frowns and looks back up the hill. There goes his walking stick.

… Well, now it’s a stick that walks, so that’s something, he supposes. 

“I can’t help you, I’m sorry. I wish you luck, but I’m not exactly in the best position to sort out anyone’s problems but my own. I’m not looking to deal with any more magic than is strictly necessary.” He says with a sigh, and smoothes out his wrinkled clothes as best he can despite the wind still mussing it all up. If only he could smoothe out the wrinkles in his hands and face. 

The turnip-head scarecrow stills beside him, but if it’s trying to communicate, Akaashi does not understand. He gives it a little bow, and a pitying smile, and then turns back to the path before him. 

“Well, so long, I guess. Try and stay away from any more bushes.” He says, and then starts walking again. He’ll find another walking stick, somewhere, eventually. He only makes it a few steps before he notices the steady thumping sound coming from behind him, and when he turns to look, the scarecrow is hopping after him. He frowns, and waves at it in a dismissive way. 

“You’re free now, go on, I really can’t help you.” He says, just as the wind picks up particularly harshly and makes him stumble backwards from the way it knocks against him. The scarecrow bounces uneasily for a second, and then whips around and finally starts hopping off in the opposite direction. He’s a little relieved, and a little sad that he’s alone again, but he has business to take care of and has no time to bother with the thing. He just has to make it to the crest of this hill, and then he’ll allow himself a little break again. 

He presses onwards, knowing that he doesn’t have much longer before the sun begins to set. He aches all over with the cold seeping through his bones, and groans when a thick burst of mist blows against him and leaves him damp and even more frigid. 

“Should have brought a blanket.” He laments, and then his teeth grit together to keep from chattering. The second jacket is doing very little to warm him, and the wind seems to blow right through him. Holding his arms together over his chest does nothing either, and his fingers feel like they’re being stabbed with needles as his apparent arthritis reacts poorly with the temperature. After this ordeal, he’ll never wring his fingers ever again. 

He’s nearly made it to the crest when he hears the steady thumping sound again, growing louder and louder until he turns and sees that the poor cursed scarecrow has returned. He feels like he should be angry, but if anything he’s empathetic to the thing that was probably still a person inside. When he catches sight of something dangling off the arm of the turnip-head, he’s also more than a little grateful. 

“A cane?” He asks, brows furrowing together when the scarecrow hops once and the cane unhooks from its arm and lands in front of Akaashi. It, too, stands upright, and he feels like he’s going to go insane with all the impossible things he’s seen in the last two days after a completely uneventful life prior. “Where did you find this?” 

Predictably, the scarecrow is silent, but Akaashi’s hand curls around the ornate crow head at the top of the cane anyways, and marvels at how perfectly it seems to fit him. Just the right height, and comfortable in his palm. He looks up at the scarecrow again and smiles in gratitude, but he still can’t help the creature. 

“Thank you.” He says, testing the cane by leaning his weight into it a little. Oh, yes, this will do very nicely. He feels bad, but he’s already given the scarecrow his answer, and as much as he thinks it’s only polite to repay the favor, breaking someone else’s curse seems a much bigger job than finding a cane for an old man. Even if one  _ does _ happen to be a scarecrow. 

And he doesn’t like lying, or tricks, but the longer he spends hanging around with his present company is more time wasted in getting where he needs to go. 

“I’m not sure why you’re helping me, but if you’d be so inclined, I’m getting quite tired and cold. Do you think you could find me a place to rest for the night?” He asks, smiling in a way he hopes comes across as friendly, and not devious. 

Turnip-head hesitates for a moment, as if he’s thinking, and then starts hopping forward with what looks like determination. He goes right past Akaashi, into the mists and growing more and more hazy until he disappears completely. At least he’s being considerate enough to head in the same general direction, but Akaashi doesn’t expect he’ll actually return any time soon, so he sets off again in the hopes that he can be long gone by the time the scarecrow returns. 

With the help of the cane, Akaashi is able to move a bit easier, and finally reaches the crest of the hill in what feels like no time at all compared to his previous struggle. Looking back, he can still barely make out the town, and takes his last long look before he won’t see it again for who knew how long. The wind picks up again, suddenly, and he catches the sound of groaning machinery above him. When he looks up, he can make out the long, oblong shape of one of the kingdom’s battleships looming menacingly above. 

It’s meant to protect them, he’s sure, but the way it’s supposed to go about that is by destruction of the enemy, and he simply cannot find it in himself to feel protected. This whole war is pointless, but there is nothing he can do about it except hope that he will make it home and not find it ablaze. 

He has to move faster. 

The descent down the hill and into the valley is easier than the climb up, but he still struggles to keep his footing when the ground slips under his feet. It’s so much more damp here, with the heavy mist keeping the earth slick and dangerous. More than once, he has to catch himself from sliding with the cane, and feels bad again for accepting it from the scarecrow with no intention of sticking around and helping it out, too. Perhaps it wasn’t even a cursed person, though. For all he knew, it was simply a regular old scarecrow that had been possessed by some friendly spirit or another. He’d like to think that, anyway. 

He makes it into the valley just as dusk settles across the sky. He can’t actually  _ see _ the sky through the mist, but it’s gotten darker, and there’s just enough light refracting through the mist for him to see just a few feet in front of him at a time. If he’s honest with himself, he’s just wandering aimlessly at this point, with only vague ideas of stumbling across a helpful wizard, or the Waste Warlock to demand the curse be broken- but he has no idea where he is, and has nowhere to sleep in the immediate vicinity. Exhaustion hits him like a wave, and he’s forced to take another break for his cramped, aching feet. 

He feels a little hopeless as he sits and the reality of his situation dawns on him. It isn’t as if he can just turn around now, but he feels lost, and his spirits have fallen quite a bit lower than even his usual anxieties. 

Until, that is, he catches the pleasant scent of burning wood, and it seems as though it’s close by. He stands, eyes wide, and paces quickly towards the smell with renewed determination. At the very least, there was a chance he could have somewhere warm to sleep tonight. If he was particularly lucky, maybe even some advice on how to find the Warlock. 

The steady sound of thumping has him going still, though, and when the scarecrow suddenly emerges from the mist before him, his shoulders drop and he groans in frustration. It hops excitedly before him, and he doesn’t keep the frown off his face this time. 

“Listen, I understand that you’re trying to help, but I’ve already got quite enough on my plate to de-” He cuts himself off when a sound like creaking metal and a rush of steam meets his ears, and then gazes behind the scarecrow in horror when a giant, metallic creature slowly hobbles into view through the mist. 

The castle. The damned scarecrow brought  _ Bokuto’s castle _ . 

“Wh- What are you thinking? Do you even have a brain in that vegetable head of yours? You brought the  _ castle _ here?” Akaashi snaps, anger and fear welling up inside his chest in equal measure. A frustrated huff leaves him, and one wrinkled hand drags down his face as the scarecrow just lingers before him, swaying slightly in the breeze but otherwise still. 

At least the dangerous wizard wasn’t particularly fond of eating the hearts of decrepit old men, he thinks, and it’s not like he has many options. Even if the castle does look like a giant mechanical death trap with legs. 

“Some castle this is, anyway. Rusty old bucket.” He grumbles, still hesitating and eyeing the thing warily. He’s just about to take a step towards it when it starts creaking and groaning again, lifting itself back up from where it had previously been crouched- appearing to patiently wait for him until he went and insulted it. The scarecrow begins hopping impatiently as it moves, taking one long step over Akaashi’s head and then another. 

He gasps, watching as the belly of the thing looms above him as it keeps going, bringing what looks vaguely like a tail moving closer towards him and then passing him by- and there’s a few steps at the very end, leading up to a lantern-illuminated door he hadn’t seen before. There’s a decision to make, then, and he is left with very little time to make up his mind when the castle doesn’t stop in its path moving away from him. 

A harsh gust of air kicks up just then, and he comes to the conclusion that he’d rather brave the castle than freeze to death in the wastes. 

“Wait!” He calls, his legs aching as he forces them to move, faster than he’s had to on his journey so far. The turnip head bounces along behind him, as if to encourage and urge him to catch up. 

The castle does not slow, and Akaashi cries out in frustration at the effort it takes to gain any sort of ground on the retreating door. His lungs burn at his gasping for breath, and the bitter winds sting his eyes until they grow wet with tears that only make it more difficult to catch up- but then his hand grazes over the railing that frames the door, and hope rekindles in his chest. His hand slips once, and he pushes his legs to go faster,  _ faster _ , until his palm circles firmly around the railing and holds tight. 

“Please! Just for a moment!” He calls, and then his breath catches when the entrance seems to dip down and scoop back up, and he stumbles over the steps but  _ makes it _ . Relief floods him as he stands and tries to catch his breath, eyes closed, both hands now clamped tightly over the rail to keep him steady as the whole thing sways beneath him with the castle’s movement. 

Wind whips by him again, and he feels a fluttering around his neck for half a second- and he opens his eyes just in time to see his favorite blue scarf fly free from his neck and fling itself away into the wastes. 

“No!” Kiyoko had given him that scarf for his fourteenth birthday, years and years ago. He’d spotted it in the market they’d been passing through, but the family had been pinching pennies at the time to keep the clock shop afloat. When he asked his mother for it as his birthday gift, she had gently chided him and promised him something else- and he’d already been good at hiding his disappointment from her by that time, but Kiyoko was more perceptive. 

She’d spent her own meager savings on it, and surprised him with it in secret the morning after their small celebration. He’d been so captivated by the bright color- she said it matched his eyes- and how soft it had felt under his fingers. A stark contrast to the hard and sharp tools his father was already teaching him to use to work on the delicate machinery of the clocks. 

And now it is blowing away in the breeze, and he cannot chase after it or he will lose his chance to sleep with the warmth of a fire for the night. 

Turnip-head, though, pauses in his bouncing after him, and turns away from him to head in the opposite direction. Akaashi thinks that it’s just going to leave, now that it has succeeded in filling his request for a place to rest. He feels guilty again, but his grief over the lost, treasured gift overpowers it, and he slumps down against the steps and stares bitterly out where he can no longer even see it.

His eyes dart down at the swiftly passing ground, a frown etching itself deeply in his features. What a mess he’s gotten himself into. In his chest, his heart is still thumping too quickly from his run, and he wonders what sort of negative effects it might have on this body that doesn’t quite belong to him. 

After allowing himself a few moments to grieve and calm down, he stands again with a heavy sigh and places his hand on the doorknob to give it a cautious turn. It doesn’t resist, and he turns more fully to face it and head inside- but he’s stopped by the familiar sound of thudding, loud enough even over the groaning and puff of steam from the castle. 

When he looks back, the warm glow from the bright lantern illuminates the scarecrow chasing after him, hot on the castle’s heels. Akaashi’s scarf is over its extended arm, and he can’t help the rush of gratefulness that washes over him and leaves him grinning brightly. His hand extends just as the scarecrow catches back up, and tears well up in his eyes when his fingers curl around the soft fabric and pulls it to his chest protectively. 

“Thank you! I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier!” He calls out, loud enough for the turnip-head to hear him over the roar of metal. If it even can hear him. “You’ve been very kind to me, and I’m sure Bokuto won’t eat the heart of an ugly old man like me. I hope I can repay you somehow, someday! I’ll never forget you!”

The scarecrow does not respond, aside from bouncing a little harder- almost like he’s nodding, and then it falls back a little. It seems to be waiting for Akaashi to go inside, now, so he does, with one final wave to the helpful creature that had shown him such unselfish kindness. 

The difference, once he is inside and the door is closed, is startling. He can no longer feel the sway of the castle, nor the biting cold of the wind against his body. There is a staircase in front of him, and he can hear the gentle crackle of burning wood, but there is no other sound. Darkness surrounds him, too, and it takes him a moment to adjust from the light he’d gotten used to from the lantern over the door. 

Slowly, cautiously, he climbs one step after the other, and as his eyes grow accustomed to the dim light from the tiny fire he spots, he can make out the details of what appears to be a fairly standard living area. Or, it  _ might  _ have been standard, if it weren’t an absolutely disastrous mess. He can’t be bothered trying to figure out all the various items piled high on tables and chairs and shelves, disorganized in a way he’s  _ never _ before had the misfortune of seeing in another person’s home. 

It seems that when one is a solitary wizard, one does not have a need to keep a tidy home to welcome guests into, Akaashi supposes. He refrains from touching anything; if a single thing loses its precarious place, he fears that the whole of the pile will simply tumble and make a fuss that would surely alert the wizard to his uninvited guest. Instead, he drags himself to the single, humble chair sat before the fire, and carefully lowers himself down onto it. He just needs to rest his eyes for a moment, he tells himself, and then he’ll… figure it out from there. 

Exhaustion sets in harder than it has in his whole life thus far, though, as soon as he relaxes his muscles and realizes just how much running has taken out of him. The warmth of the tiny little fire is comforting- but it isn’t quite enough yet for him to shake the persistent chill in his bones. Forcing himself to move again, he leans down and reaches for the firewood stacked by the raised fireplace and tosses two atop the little flame. 

He takes in his surroundings a little better while the wood catches, and his eyes wander the room with a disdainful frown. Cobwebs cling to every corner, books are scattered everywhere with loose pages poking out here and there, dishes and miraculously unspoiled food are piled high on what he thinks must have been a dining table at some point, and knick-knacks that must be magical in usage are carelessly strewn about, too. 

How any woman could be charmed by a man who so clearly had zero sense of tidiness, Akaashi did not understand. 

“Ugh, that spell looks awful. Way too unnecessarily complex.” Comes a voice from in front of him, and when he snaps his head back in the direction it came from, he’s greeted by a pair of cool, almost disinterested eyes staring back at him.  _ From the fire _ . 

“That’s it. I must be dreaming, still. This… this is too much.” Akaashi deadpans, unblinking as he watches the fire meet and hold his gaze far too evenly. “Fire doesn’t talk. You’re not real.”

“I’m going to guess that particular spell comes with a leash, too. Can’t talk about it?” The fire says back calmly, in a tone that seems far too judgemental to be polite. 

“Are… You wouldn’t… happen to be the wizard, Bokuto?” Akaashi asks, mind racing as he tries to come up with  _ some  _ logical explanation for why  _ fire _ was  _ talking to him.  _

The disembodied- or, he supposes, fire bodied- eyes roll, and a scoff comes out of the flame, along with a little sizzling spark. 

“No. I’m not that idiot. I’m an extremely powerful fire demon, and you would do well to remember and respect that. Call me Tsukishima.” 

A demon.  _ A blasted demon _ . At least it made more sense than just him fully hallucinating, although he was getting sleepier by the second, and wasn’t sure how much longer he had before he just passed out altogether. 

And then an idea hit him. 

“Are you powerful enough to break this curse?” He asks, a tinge of desperation in his raspy voice. The demon looks like it’s pursing the equivalent of its lips, and it regards him carefully and silently for a moment. 

“I could. But you will need to return the favor and free me, as well. I’m sick of being stuck in this filthy fireplace.” It says, casting an irritated glare around itself to the massive pile of ash surrounding it- or, him? Him, Akaashi thinks. 

He’s been taught all his life to beware of demons, though- no matter how desperate he is to return to his normal life. Boring, plain, and uneventful as it is, it is  _ his  _ life. He wants it back. 

“You’re a demon. Those are not known for being particularly trustworthy. How do I know you’ll help me after I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain?” 

“You don’t. Are you willing to risk looking elsewhere?” Tsukishima asks, and the fiery mouth twists up in a smirk, and his eyes narrow in amusement. 

Akaashi’s eyes narrow as well- in skepticism and irritation. He doesn’t enjoy being toyed with. The fact that he’s  _ literally  _ playing with fire aside, he won’t be jerked around. The Waste Warlock had put him through quite enough already.

“If you can’t even do me the decency of pretending you’ll uphold your part of the deal, then it’s off. Good luck finding someone else to help.” Akaashi grumbles, blinking wearily. He’s finally warmed up again, and now that he’s more comfortable, he can’t quite keep his sleepiness at bay. 

Tsukishima huffs and crackles a little louder, and Akaashi thinks he sees him scowling a little before his eyes shut again and he can’t bring himself to open them again. 

“I thought most old men were supposed to be kind and sympathetic, but you’re just the cranky, senile type, aren’t you? You have no idea what I go through, stuck here. I do everything, bend to Bokuto’s every whim. Who do you think cooks the food? Heats the water? Moves the castle? You think that lout does it?” Tsukishima rants, but his voice is actually kind of pleasant, despite the irritation coloring it. Akaashi can’t help but drift further off to sleep listening to it, but he does make a conscious effort to nod and show he’s listening. 

“Sounds awful.” His own voice sounds a little slurred, and it’s getting more difficult to work his jaw properly. 

“Hey- don’t you fall asleep on me yet!” Tsukishima snaps, “Okay, you’ve got a deal, figure out how to break my curse, and I’ll break yours, understand?”

It takes too long for the words to make sense in Akaashi’s tired brain, but when their meaning sinks in, he just smiles softly and hums in agreement. Tsukishima starts yelling at him, then, probably telling him not to fall asleep, but it’s too late. Akaashi feels his head nod forward, nose buried in the soft fabric of his scarf, and then the world fades away entirely. 

Actual dreams come to him, now. Hazy, soft scenery surrounds him, and nothing is quite clear or tangible enough to make sense- but in his mind, nothing is amiss. The sky is a watercolor of navy and purple and pink and orange; the sun sits just above the horizon and rims the bottom of the soft clouds with delicate threads of gold. The town is below him, but it’s full of thick mists that reflect the same hues as the sky above, and only the brown and beige rooftops peek up above the layered fog. 

He seems to be in the sky again, but he feels a sort of serenity in the weightlessness as he strolls casually along, seemingly held aloft by nothing but a gentle breeze that blooms under his feet with every step. In the distance, the hills of the Wastes appear to roll like waves on the ocean, and as surreal as it all is, it’s beautiful. He can feel himself smiling, and then his consciousness shifts and he is watching himself in third person- he’s young again, and his scarf is flowing long and gentle behind him like streamers in the wind, and he is not cold. 

There’s a soft ticking sound filling the air, but it sounds hollow and echoes up at him from all around and bounces through the streets below. The only other thing he can hear is the wind, and even though there are no people in the town below, he does not feel alone. 

Something flickers across the evening sky, and his consciousness snaps back to his body, though he does not notice the shift in perspective. When he looks up, a bright blue flash catches his eye, and then another, and another, and he sees stars dance and streak through the skies as they fall towards the Wastes. Most of them flicker and fade before they can manage to touch down in the soft-looking hills, and he just watches in quiet contentment as the sunset sky swirls around the stars’ paths. 

A particularly violent flash nearly blinds him for a second, and he watches in astonishment as another star falls- but this one is so much more impressive in size and color as it tears through the clouds. It manages to touch down somewhere beyond the biggest hill, and a pillar of stunningly beautiful blue and purple light shoots up from where the star landed, and a wave of something ethereal blasts out around it in all directions. The wind carries it along, and for a second, Akaashi’s peace is shattered and he finds himself panicking when it blasts through him, and all the mists in the town below and blown away like the force of a bomb is washing them away. 

Eyes wide, confidence shaken, he takes a step back- and his heart drops when the breeze does not catch his foot, and he thinks he is going to fall. It seems to happen in slow motion, tipping backwards with his arms outstretched for  _ something _ to catch him, muscles all tensing and bracing for the inevitable impact-

And then a strong, warm arm slides around his shoulders, and his outstretched hand is gently circled by steady fingers, and he is no longer falling as he is held firmly instead. The town below him no longer exists- it ceased existing the moment he took his eyes off of it, and now he is suddenly surrounded by an endless, impossibly blue sky full of paper-white clouds that mill lazily around him. 

“Steady there, clumsy.” An amused, warm voice says in his ear, as the fingers that had just been holding his hand carefully slip instead to lace together with his own digits and cradle him just that little bit more intimately. For some reason, his head will not turn to let him see who is speaking- but he knows. He doesn’t even have to see who the voice or the hands belong to for his whole body to relax again, and he leans heavily against the strong body keeping him upright. 

“What are you doing up here all by yourself, anyway? It’s a good thing I found you again, huh? We can’t keep meeting like this, you know.” The voice chuckles, and he can  _ feel  _ the puff of breath against his ear, and then the sensation of a nose burying just behind his ear at the same time the arm around his shoulders goes to wrap around his waist instead. 

And then the body behind him is guiding him in a slow, swaying dance that lacks music, but he lets himself be guided anyway. It feels natural, like his body knows what to do, even though he’s never really danced before in all his life. It’s… nice. 

He wants to thank the man for catching him- for saving him, again- but his mouth doesn’t cooperate with him, and instead opens and closes soundlessly as he tries to settle on the right words. 

What finally works its way out, instead of gratitude, is, “Who are you?”

The man chuckles again, and the arm around him tightens for a second, and then falls away, and the hand entwined with his own guides it to the sky, and he gasps as he’s twirled around unexpectedly. It doesn’t even happen quickly, but he still feels dizzy with it- and even more so when the arm returns around the small of his back and dips him down low- 

And when he looks up, he sees liquid gold eyes, and a grin that could blind the sun itself, and spiky dark locks that he wants to bury his hands into and see if they’re actually soft. The man’s jewelry sparkles in the light, and his breath catches at just how  _ beautiful _ this man is, and how much he yearns to stay by his side forever. 

The man opens his mouth, as if to speak- to answer his question- and Akaashi’s heart swells in anticipation-

And then there’s a loud knock on a wooden door, and sunlight glowing behind his eyelids, and a damp smell in the air, and the crackling of a fire, and an uncomfortable chair holding him instead of warm arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes I know the dream bit is not in the movie but I REALLY love writing dream sequences so I couldn't help but indulge myself a bit <3 Plus I had to bulk up this chapter a bit since it moved a tiny bit quicker than I initially planned lmao. Let me know what you think! I get really excited every time I see the little notification that there's another message in my inbox, it seriously helps me get through boring shifts at work and inspires me to work on it more! Thank you!


	3. A New Face, A Familiar Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi meets the wizard and his apprentice, and works to earn his keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Actually uploading this at 1am instead of 3 this time whoo!

Insistent knocking at the door was not the way that Akaashi wanted to wake in the morning. Not that he wanted to wake from his pleasant dream, anyway, but this was objectively just a rude awakening. Whoever was at the door clearly wasn’t going away anytime soon, and-

Wait, weren’t they in the Wastes? Who could possibly be knocking at the castle door all the way out here?

He opens his eyes, blinking sleepily against the bright sunlight filtering in through the windows, brows furrowed in confusion. Had he really slept all the way through the night? In a dangerous wizard’s living room, in front of a literal demon?

… Huh. Either he really was suddenly a lot more okay with everything with age, or this old body was just able to sleep more heavily than he ever had before. 

Footsteps thump down from the staircase, and in a blind panic, he closes his eyes again and pretends he’s sleeping again, hoping that at worst, he’d be begrudgingly shuffled out of the castle rather than be cursed even further- 

Or killed. 

“Karasuno door.” Tsukishima calls out to whoever is reaching the bottom steps of the stairs, and then Akaashi hears someone take a sharp inhale. Probably in shock at seeing a strange old man passed out on an uncomfortable wooden chair. 

“Hey, Tsukishima, who’s this guy?” The voice sounds like it belongs to a younger man, not at all what he expected of Bokuto. Could wizards shapeshift or something? There’s no way Bokuto seduces pretty young women sounding like a fourteen year old boy. 

“Just get the door.” Tsukishima grumps, clearly irritated at the person still pounding against the wood. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going!” The younger voice huffs. 

Akaashi hears a peculiar rush of fabric, and then feels a gentle breeze as a body darts past him, running entirely too enthusiastically for the early hour. He chances a peek when the person sounds like they’re halfway down the stairs, and barely catches the sight of vivid orange hair before a black cloak hood is pulled over the young man’s head. There’s a sound like a zipper pulling, and then the figure pushes open the door, and-

And there’s a decently dressed man, standing on a cobblestone street, with the odd passerby moving along behind him. 

_ They aren’t in the Wastes. _

_ “ _ Good morning, sir! I’m here to seek an audience with the Great Horned Owl?” The stranger says, smiling brightly at the young man. Akaashi isn’t aware he’s leaning halfway off his seat to watch the proceedings until he nearly stumbles off it, just barely catching himself in the last second and managing to avoid embarrassment. 

“Ah, my apologies,” the boy’s voice is suddenly deeper and more raspy, but in a sort of hilarious way; he doesn’t sound like he’s charmed himself to sound different, but instead is trying rather unimpressively to sound older and more mature. “Master is out on other business. I will pass along your message to him.”

Akaashi has to hold back a snicker at the ridiculous voice, and when he looks over at Tsukishima, the little flame is smirking, too. 

“I’m a messenger for His Highness, King Daichi. I’ve been sent to deliver this invitation for your Master to join the war effort. All witches, wizards, and warlocks are required to report.” The stranger says. 

Akaashi no longer feels like laughing. Things must be getting bad if the king has decided to bring magic into the fray. So many people will die, so many homes destroyed, so much tragedy and sorrow and there is nothing he can do about it. 

Hell, the missing Nekoma prince could return home today and it would still be too late. 

With a heavy sigh, and a resigned feeling settling in his gut, Akaashi finally drops his act of sleep and gets up to grab at a log to stack atop Tsukishima. The demon huffs, but fluidly slips around it anyway and burns just a little brighter with the fresh wood. 

“This war is ridiculous. Over some playboy prince who probably just ran off with a girl anyway.” Akaashi grumbles, settling himself back into the chair as the young man closes the door and dashes up the stairs. 

Seeing his face does a little to restore Akaashi’s amusement though. The boy’s bright orange hair is nowhere to be seen, and his face looks almost as aged and withered as Akaashi’s, but there’s something just a little about the appearance. Like the spell hasn’t been perfected. There’s also a ridiculously long beard trailing down the boy’s front, and the whole thing is topped off by just how  _ short _ the boy is. 

“Who dares intrude in the Great Horned Owl’s castle?” The boy demands, and his voice is still that dumb impression, and Akaashi smiles in spite of himself and motions to the fire. 

“Tsukishima let me in.” He says simply, earning himself a frustrated crackle and a raised eyebrow from the boy. 

“ _ No _ , I did  _ not _ .” Tsukishima hisses, narrowing his eyes at Akaashi and crackling louder. “You barged in here from the Wastes all on your own. Don’t put this on me.” 

The boy gasps, and his hands move up to rip his hood back- and the illusion melts away. He’s got wild orange hair poking out at all angles, and expressively wide brown eyes, and a cute round face that’s staring at Akaashi in shock. His height, it seemed, was not part of the illusion, because he’s still adorably short. He must be eleven or so, Akaashi thinks. 

“Tsukishima, how could you let a Warlock in here?” The boy shrieks, brows pushing together as he points an accusatory finger in Akaashi’s direction, and glaring at the fire demon angrily. 

“Wh- You must go through some real mental gymnastics to get such a stupid idea, idiot Hinata.” Tsukishima growls, crackling loudly again and returning the boy’s glare with an equal amount of venom. “I wouldn’t let a  _ Warlock _ in here. Do you really think one could even make it through that door?”

“Ugh, what is he doing, then?” The boy- Hinata- asks, gesturing wildly at Akaashi in a way that would be hilarious, if they weren’t talking about him as if he weren’t there. 

“Excuse me, will you allow me to explain myself?” Akaashi asks, offering Hinata a smile that he hopes is disarming. After all, he’s going to have to figure out a way to stay here somehow or another, at least until Tsukishima can figure out how to break his curse and vice-versa.

Hinata purses his lips thoughtfully and looks him over with both arms crossed over his chest. He looks to be sizing him up, determining whether or not to trust him, but there’s another knock at the door, and he’s immediately bounding back down the stairs to answer it, disguise coming over him again with his hood. 

“Karasuno again.” Tsukishima says, sounding more irritated than before from the whole debacle. Akaashi decides that it’s time he gets a proper look at his surroundings while Hinata is busy, so as Hinata handles the door, he gets out of the chair and shuffles towards the window. When he looks out, he sees that, somehow, he’s in a little town quite similar to his own, and there are seagulls flying around in the bright blue sky. 

Near the ocean, then? How did they make it there so fast? How did the castle fit in this tidy row of buildings surrounding them?

Tsukishima had said something about the door, so maybe it was like a portal? But he could see out the window, too, so-

“Yes, I can prepare that for you. Follow me for a moment.” He hears Hinata say, and then two sets of feet shuffle back up the stairs. A young boy with dark hair and freckles follows behind Hinata- still disguised- and then stands awkwardly at the top of the landing as Hinata swiftly moves around the dining area, shoving things around carelessly as he… ‘prepares’ something. 

The little boy looks over at Akaashi, a little shy, and then looks away again when he’s caught by the older man. Akaashi just smiles politely and nods at the boy, who then looks back and forth between him and Hinata. 

“Are… are you a wizard, too?” The boy asks after a moment, quiet enough that Akaashi almost misses it. The kid is kind of adorable, so he decides to play into it a little, if for no other reason than to help ease his worries. 

Akaashi’s always been fairly decent with children, anyway. His own anxiety was terrible when he was younger, and he went out of his way to be sure that no other child experienced that around him. 

“Oh, yes. But I’m afraid I broke my magic wand, and now I can’t shoot fireballs at monsters anymore.” He says, smiling brightly and wiggling his fingers at the boy, who snickers and grins up at him. 

“I hope your magic wand gets fixed, then!” He chirps, eyes a little brighter when he looks at Akaashi now. 

“Me too, it’s also good for making fireworks.” Akaashi adds, and the boy giggles in delight for a second before Hinata comes back with a glass container of powder, and rattles off instructions to the boy before leading him back outside. When he thumps back up the stairs, he shoots a glare in Akaashi’s direction and moves past him. 

“Don’t go getting rumors started that there’s another wizard in town. People might start asking for you, and we don’t need competition.” Hinata huffs, still in his disguise and putting on his silly voice. Akaashi is about to ask why he’s still using the fake voice when he’s already heard the real one, but then a ball chimes and Hinata groans and heads back for the stairs. 

“Shiratorizawa door.” Tsukishima supplies, and Akaashi follows after the young man again, quietly trailing behind by a few steps. 

Hinata twists a knob to the side of the door, and a dial above it with four colors spins accordingly. The lighting all changes suddenly, and when the door opens, they’re somewhere else again. 

Shiratorizawa. The royal city. 

He pays little attention to what the tall, broad-shouldered soldier is saying to Hinata. He’s too entranced by the city he’s only ever seen once, with his mother, and slips out past the talking pair to see if it's true. His feet land on hard brick, and it is no illusion when he turns and sees a solid building connected to the door he’s just walked through. There’s a sign above it, “Wizard Ace”, and if Akaashi was mildly confused before, he’s now utterly baffled. 

Apparently Hinata’s conversation is brief, because the soldier nods and turns away to move along down the street, and the disguised young man grabs Akaashi’s wrist and drags him back inside. 

“Hey, you don’t get to wander off until I’ve made up my mind what to do with you!” He snaps, closing the door behind them and taking the steps back up two at a time. How he had so much energy in such a small body, Akaashi did not understand. 

“Why do you disguise yourself like that?” He asks, not following back up the stairs for a minute as he stares at the strange little knob and corresponding dial that seem to control where the door leads to. 

“I can’t get better at magic if I don’t practice it! And hey, come up here!” Hinata says, waiting at the top of the staircase and frowning down at Akaashi- who grasps the knob and turns it. The color goes from purple to orange, and when he opens the door again, they’re back in the little port town. “Hey, that isn’t a toy, you know!” 

Akaashi ignores him, twisting it again to the dark blue color, and then looks out again- and ah, they’re back in the Wastes. Stationary, but surrounded by nothing except hills and mist. 

“Oi!” Hinata snaps, stomping a foot petulantly to get Akaashi’s attention back on him. The older man just turns back to look up at him, lips pursed in irritation. 

“I just wanted to know how it worked.” He says, shuffling back up the staircase again to… well, he’s not sure what sort of exchange he’s hoping for with Hinata, but he hasn’t been thrown out yet. That’s a good sign, probably. 

Hinata narrows his eyes at him and stares hard for a long moment, and then he sighs and drops his hood again, restoring his youthful appearance. Akaashi wishes it could be that easy for him. “I guess you really don’t know any magic, then. That spell isn’t a super uncommon one.” 

“I told you I wasn’t a Warlock.” Akaashi repeats calmly, glancing back at the door and the black part of the dial that he hadn’t been able to turn to. “Where does that one go?” 

Hinata shrugs, turns to the table piled high with a mess, and shoves things around carelessly in pursuit of a block of cheese and a knife. “Dunno. Never been through it. Master Bokuto is the only one who can use it, anyway.”

Akaashi frowns at his unhealthy choice of breakfast and wanders to the table himself, curiously lifting a few dish covers and finding plenty of better options. 

“There’s bacon here. And eggs. Those would probably be a little more satisfying, don’t you think?” He asks, already looking around for a frying pan before Hinata can reply. 

“Well, sure, but I can’t use the fire. Tsukishima’s mean, and only Master Bokuto can get him to cooperate.” Hinata laments, lifting a small stack of dirty dishes off one of the chairs around the table and setting them on the floor before taking their place. “I dunno when he’s coming home, though, and I don’t wanna starve waiting for him.”

“I could cook, if you let me.” Akaashi says, locating a pan dangling from an overhead rack and pulling it down carefully. “Since I did sleep here uninvited. As a show of my appreciation.” 

“No, I mean you really can’t use the fire. Tsukishima won’t let you.” Hinata warns, but makes no move to stop Akaashi when he wanders over to where the flame is already glaring daggers at him. 

“Don’t you dare.” Tsukishima growls, crackling loudly for a second and shooting up a few inches in height- trying to intimidate Akaashi away. It doesn’t work, and the old man just grins slyly and dangles the pan before him. 

“You know, this whole ‘helping each other out’ thing should probably stay between us, correct? I don’t think Bokuto would appreciate his servant abandoning him to his own devices very much.” Akaashi murmurs, just low enough for Hinata not to overhear. He can feel a triumphant smirk when Tsukishima huffs and just glares back at him. 

“That’s playing dirty, old man. I’m not the only one who loses if you break our deal.” The fire spits, glancing briefly at Hinata, who is munching away on his block of cheese, only vaguely interested in their conversation. 

“That may be so, but when do you think the next stranger is going to wander into your home with the motivation to strike up this kind of deal with you?” Akaashi asks, smirking wider as he plops the pan down on top of Tsukishima. He can feel resistance as Tsukishima tries to reject it, but he doesn’t relent and just pushes harder. “It’s only breakfast, I’m not asking that much of you.”

“Ugh, obnoxious old bastard!” Tsukishima snaps, but then with another push from Akaashi, he obediently puffs down to a fire more suitable for cooking. There’s still the sound of angry crackling, but Akaashi feels accomplished enough to ignore it. 

“Hinata, could you bring me the eggs and bacon, please?” He asks, turning back to the stunned redhead who is staring at the heating pan like he’s never seen anything cooked before in his life. 

“Whoa! How did you do that? He’s never let me cook before! Only Master Bokuto!” Hinata gasps, rushing over with the requested food and leaning to look closer at the blue flames. Tsukishima’s eyes peek over the side and fix Hinata with a withering stare, but the young man just snorts and puts his arms over his chest and glares right back. 

“Watch it, shortie.” Tsukishima growls, shooting off a spark in Hinata’s direction just as Akaashi lays a few strips of bacon in the pan. The fire turns his gaze back at the old man, and huffs at the grin he gets in return, and Akaashi cracks a few eggs into the pan to fry alongside the bacon. 

“Could you grab me something to flip the bacon with?” Akaashi asks, looking behind him at the messy piles he couldn’t possibly hope to sort through himself. Better to have someone familiar with the place pick out a suitable instrument for the job. 

Assuming anything like that would even be clean enough, anyway.

Hinata bounces off towards the table and starts shoving things around a little recklessly, and Akaashi hears a clatter, and then the sound of glass breaking, and a small, “oops,” before the boy returns with a relatively clean spatula and a blinding grin. 

Just as Akaashi’s hand curls around it, there’s a clicking sound, and he looks up to see that the dial above the door has gone black, and his heart stops in his chest when the door swings open. He can’t see who is coming in at first, the top of the staircase obscures the figure- but outside, the scenery is pitch black, with only a faint orange glow that looks like it could be from a blazing fire. A chill goes down Akaashi’s spine, and he’s frozen in place as footsteps start to ascend the stairs. 

Time seems to come to a standstill as familiar black spikes come into view, and then downcast gold eyes, and a worrying frown etched deeply into a handsome face. 

An all-too familiar handsome face that has Akaashi’s chest and stomach tying themselves painfully into knots. 

_ It’s him _ .

“Master Bokuto! You’re back!” Hinata gasps, bounding up to the man and grinning up at him despite the sullen look on the wizard’s face. At the sight of his apprentice, though, Bokuto’s face softens a little, and his hands reach out to ruffle through orange hair. 

“Sure am, shrimp.” Bokuto chuckles, taking a deep breath in a way that Akaashi knows all too well. It’s the kind of breath that’s meant to steady oneself to put on a fake smile and act like everything is okay for the sake of those around you. He’s not sure that his presence has been noticed yet, but then Bokuto sniffs the air, and gold eyes slide over in his direction carefully. “Oho? What on earth have I missed while I was away?”

“There were some messengers for you.” Hinata says, rushing over to the table where he’d laid the two letters from earlier, seemingly oblivious to Bokuto’s meaning. “King Daichi has summoned you as both Ace and Owl.” 

Bokuto hums in a noncommittal way and takes a few steps towards Akaashi, who swiftly turns his gaze back to the pan and makes himself busy flipping the bacon.

Of  _ course _ Bokuto had to be the same wizard that had so quickly wormed his way into Akaashi’s heart. Of  _ course  _ he had to meet him again like this- 

It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, though. Bokuto only liked pretty young women. 

“Tsukki, what’s this? You don’t even behave for me without backtalk half the time.” Bokuto hums, a taunting sort of smirk spreading wide on his face. It’s far too attractive, even just out of the corner of Akaashi’s eye. All the clockmaker can hope is that Bokuto cannot see the way his hands are trembling- or at least that the wizard might attribute it to old age. 

Tsukishima flares up again, huffy as he turns up the temperature of the pan, just a little. 

“I wasn’t exactly given a choice in the matter. This old coot practically beat me until I obeyed.” The fire snaps, and Akaashi can’t even find amusement in the fact that Tsukishima conveniently left out the part about the… well, it was basically blackmail, wasn’t it? 

Bokuto, however, does laugh, and drops a hand heavily on Akaashi’s shoulder, startling him enough that he almost drops the spatula. “Wow! Tsukki’s never this nice to strangers. He must have a soft spot for you. Hey, who are you, anyway? I gotta know the name of such an impressive demon tamer.” A wink is directed at Akaashi, and he swallows thickly around the lump forming at the back of his throat. 

There’s a moment of panic, where Akaashi’s head darts up to properly meet Bokuto’s gaze. The wizard is just smiling at him in a way that makes his chest hurt. He’s ridiculously handsome, and his strong, warm hand is still rested on Akaashi’s shoulder- almost… comforting, in a way. At the very least, he doesn’t look like a man about to throw an old stranger out of his home. Yet. 

“I… M-my name is Akaashi Keiji. I’m here to help you keep house.” Akaashi says, offering the wizard a small smile and a small little bow forward, keeping a careful eye on the man. 

Bokuto just hums thoughtfully and tilts his head to the side, looking quite like the owl that is one of his aliases. He grins again, then, and reaches for the end of the pan and the spatula that Akaashi is holding. There’s no point in fighting it, so when Akaashi is very gently pushed out of the way so that the wizard can take over cooking. 

“Well, I won’t complain. I don’t even know where to begin tackling all this mess. Hey, hand me some more bacon and eggs, would you?” Bokuto asks, and Akaashi silently obeys until Bokuto holds up a hand to signal that there’s enough. “So, ‘Kaashi, who hired you, anyway?”

“Tsukishima did.” Akaashi answers immediately, glancing at the fire to make sure he isn’t given away immediately. Besides, it’s not as if he can rope Hinata into it without raising suspicions when the younger man inevitably protests. “He said he was getting claustrophobic with all the clutter.”

Tsukishima’s eyes slide to him, and he puffs out a little, but doesn’t say anything to the contrary. Instead, Akaashi is surprised when the fire finally speaks up again. 

“If I’m going to be stuck in this place, the least you can do is provide me a clean living space,  _ Master _ .” The last word is hissed out in irritation, but Bokuto just laughs, and Akaashi’s heart does funny little flips behind his ribcage at the bright sound.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, grumpy. Already said I wasn’t complaining, right? Welcome to our little family, ‘Kaashi!” Bokuto says, grinning at Akaashi again. 

He thinks he catches sight of an extra sort of softness in the wizard’s eyes, but then Bokuto turns back to the finished food in the pan and pulls it up off of Tsukishima. The fire rises up to his regular height, and Akaashi is sure that arms would be crossed over Tsukishima’s chest if the demon possessed such parts. 

“Hinata, find some clean dishes so we can eat!” Bokuto instructs, and then grabs up the discarded eggshells and tosses them one by one into Tsukishima’s waiting mouth. “Thanks, Tsukki.”

“My name is  _ Tsukishima _ .” The fire says, even through the sound of crunching eggshells. Akaashi isn’t sure exactly how Tsukishima can  _ chew _ , but he’s seen enough mind boggling things for one day. 

Bokuto chuckles again as he moves to the table that Hinata is busily clearing away, and then works in tandem with the younger man to serve up the food on each clean plate that Hinata finds. A place is cleared for Akaashi, and Bokuto beckons him to sit, so he does. 

At some point, Hinata had started a pot of tea with an electric kettle, and Akaashi wonders how the thing already looks so aged when it can’t possibly be more than a year or two old. Still, he’s grateful when the warm drink is set before him- although it’s in a small, chipped bowl rather than a proper cup. 

He’s definitely starting his deep clean with the dishes. 

Once all the bacon and eggs are passed out, Hinata passes Akaashi a spoon to eat with, and Bokuto busies himself slicing off a few pieces of bread for each of them. It all seems so shockingly domestic that Akaashi wonders how the rumors about how dangerous Bokuto is were ever spread in the first place. 

“Well, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto starts, handing off two slices to the other man, “Thanks for getting breakfast started. Nice to have a proper meal every once in a while!”

The nickname confuses Akaashi a little, but he doesn’t bother fighting it. Instead, he just gives the wizard a grateful smile and nods at him. 

“Thank you for letting me stay. I’ll be sure to work hard.” Akaashi says, forcing his eyes back to his plate and carefully stabbing at his egg yolks while Hinata eats  _ far _ too noisily beside him. Bokuto is just a little bit less messy, but it’s probably just because he is also eating with a spoon, and the slippery eggs keep sliding away from him. 

It should disgust Akaashi. He’s been raised to have perfect manners from a young age, but it appears that neither of the other two at the table with him were taught the same way. Still, he finds it oddly endearing, even Hinata’s slurping makes him want to cringe. 

“Hinata, you’re supposed to close your mouth when you chew.” He chides softly, demonstrating by dipping his bread into the bright yellow yolk and taking a bite, then chewing it carefully while smiling sarcastically at the young man. He’s grateful he still has his own teeth in this old body. Savoring the flavorful food is quite a bit easier when it isn’t mush. 

To his credit, Hinata does look a little bashful, and he straightens up a bit and makes a conscious effort to eat slower and more carefully. Akaashi thinks he must be a good apprentice if he responds so quickly to instruction. 

“So, by the way, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto says after a moment, setting his spoon down and giving up trying to scoop his eggs up with it, “You know you’ve got something in your pocket? Could I see that?” He’s smiling, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks almost as tired as he had when he’d first come in, and it fills Akaashi with a deep feeling of dread. 

The feeling multiplies exponentially when he reaches into his blazer pocket and feels a folded piece of paper slip between his fingers. He pulls it out, staring at the offending red paper with furrowed brows and growing confusion. 

“I… where did-” 

“Hey, don’t worry too much about it, okay? I know it’s not yours, could I see it for a second?” Bokuto interrupts him, reaching his hand out for the paper. It feels less like a demand, and more like an offer to relieve Akaashi of a burden. 

The paper doesn’t even make it to Bokuto’s palm. As soon as the edge of it touches the wizard’s fingertips, it sparks brightly and Akaashi drops it with a gasp. Immediately, the paper unfolds and burns away, and what looks like a picture drawn onto it burns deeply into the wooden table. 

Bokuto huffs out a frustrated laugh and stares at it, while Hinata gasps and leans over the scorch marks to examine them closer. Akaashi scoots a bit away, horrified that he’d been carrying such a thing around without even knowing it. 

“That’s some pretty old, powerful sorcery there. Haven’t seen anything like that in a while.” Bokuto says, running a hand through his spiky black hair and finally moving to look at it in detail. It’s still smoldering against the wood, and a thin stream of smoke drifts up from it as it burns deeper into the table. 

“What does it say?” Hinata asks, eyes wide when he looks up at Bokuto. Eagerness is radiating off him, and Akaashi wonders just how much energy the young man can possibly have. 

Bokuto’s lips purse into a thoughtful frown, and he squints just a little as his eyes rake over the burning lines of spellwork. 

“‘You who swallowed a star, o heartless man. Soon I will swallow your heart, and your power will belong to me’. That’s just rude. Burning my table like that, really.” Bokuto huffs and lays his hand carefully over the mark. The whole area under his palm sparks brightly, and the thin stream of smoke billows up thicker and angrier as Bokuto smooths his hand across the wood. 

There’s an intense look of concentration on the wizard’s face; his eyes are bright with determination, and a wide smirk is curving up his lips that looks so attractive that Akaashi finally understands the danger. Even if Bokuto means him no harm, he is sure he would do anything for the wizard at his word alone. 

When all is said and done, Bokuto pulls his hand away from the table- and the mark is gone. Akaashi does not miss the way the wizard’s hand is scorched and shaking when he pulls it back to himself. There’s also an unpleasant burning smell still hanging in the air, but the wizard’s injury takes priority in the list of things that concern Akaashi in that moment. 

Hinata doesn’t seem to notice, though, and traces a curious finger across where the mark had been, delight on his face at the display of his master’s power. 

“Whoa! It’s totally gone! Will you teach me how to do that?” He asks, turning another blinding grin at the wizard. He’s like the sun itself, the way he shines, and Akaashi can’t help but wonder if the young man isn’t just a little bit inhuman himself. 

“If you’re lucky, you’ll never have to see anything like it again, shrimp. I can’t get rid of the curse, but at least the table doesn’t look so ugly.” Bokuto scoots back in his chair then, and stands without finishing his breakfast. “‘Scuse me, I gotta take care of some stuff. Hey, Tsukki! Could you move the castle sixty or so miles west? And I’m gonna take a bath, too, heat me some water?” 

“It’s  _ Tsukishima _ !” The fire hisses, but Bokuto just laughs and moves to the staircase. 

“Thanks, Tsukki!” Bokuto calls, making his way up the steps before Tsukishima can bite out another retort. 

Hinata turns to Akaashi without missing a beat, then, and levels him with an intensely curious gaze that makes the older man prickle in discomfort. It’s not judgemental or suspicious, necessarily, but he isn’t used to this kind of scrutiny, so he averts his gaze and pointedly shoves a bite of egg into his mouth. 

“You aren’t actually working for the Waste Warlock, right?”

Akaashi almost chokes, and his hand flies up to cover his mouth to keep him from coughing up the egg. When he’s finally able to swallow it down, he shoots an angry glare at Hinata and his fists curl at his sides. 

“I would  _ never _ . That bastard is nothing but a power-hungry coward and he just  _ used  _ me! I’d sooner eat my own tongue than consort with the man who-” Akaashi starts, but as soon as the bit about the curse tries to leave his lips, his mouth snaps shut against his will and he is left angrier than he started. No matter how he tries to spit it out, his tongue and lips will not cooperate, and in a bout of frustrated rage he slams both fists down on the table. “I hope he chokes under the weight of that  _ fucking  _ cloak!”

Hinata flinches back slightly at the outburst, and Akaashi claps his hand over his mouth again in shock at himself. No matter how angry he is, that sort of language is unnecessary, and in front of a  _ child _ ? 

“I’m- I apologize, Hinata, that was so rude of me-”

Hinata bursts out laughing suddenly, throwing his head back and slapping the table hysterically. His eyes are clenched shut as he snorts, and Akaashi just stares at him, mortified at his own behavior. Tsukishima is snickering, too, and a glare is thrown in his direction. 

“Okay, okay, I believe you!” Hinata laughs, grinning up at Akaashi with cheeks flushed from his amusement. “You act like I’ve never heard a swear in my life. I’m almost seventeen, I hope you know.”

Akaashi balks. 

“But- you’re-”

“Watch it.” Hinata huffs, scooting back to the table and snatching up another piece of bacon to munch on. “I get enough harassment from Tsukki and Master.” 

“ _ Tsukishima! _ Say it with me,  _ Tsu-ki-shi-ma _ !” The fire snaps.

“Anyway, that was really funny, hearing an old man say something like that!” Hinata says, grinning again and biting into the bacon. 

Akaashi can’t tell if he wants to smack the younger man or himself. It is a  _ little _ funny, in hindsight, but the reminder that he’s stuck this way is still like a slap to the face. A frustrated glare is aimed at the table, and he can’t help but feel even more frustrated when he sees the multitude of crumbs littering it. 

He can’t stay in this pigsty anymore. And cleaning might be a good distraction from his thoughts, anyway. 

“Please set your dishes in the sink when you finish your meal.” He grumbles, standing up with his own plate and hesitating at where to bring it. Whether the house even has a trash can, he doesn’t know. But if Tsukishima had eaten the eggshells, maybe he’d enjoy actual food, too. 

“Would you like the rest, Tsukishima?” He asks the fire, moving towards him and motioning to his plate. The fire looks up at him, and a small smirk forms in the flames. 

“At least someone here shows their appreciation. Even if it is  _ leftovers _ .” Tsukishima says, but gratefully accepts the food offered to him. 

“Even when I try to be nice, he sasses me.” Akaashi sighs, “Next time I’ll toss it outside, I guess.”

Tsukishima huffs and sparks up a bit, but Akaashi doesn’t miss the grumbled out, “thanks,” that the fire gives him. 

With that, the old man removes his coat, blazer, and scarf before rolling up his sleeves and setting to work. He tries to start with the dishes, but finds that the cabinets are too stuffed with junk for them to be put away. Organizing them is a headache, especially with Hinata shouting at him every two minutes to “be careful with that”. 

Really, he tries to handle it. He wants to be courteous to the people letting him stay here, but the redhead is just  _ watching  _ him and hovering like a particularly energetic fly. It only takes about forty minutes for him to snap. 

“I do not know what half of these things are, Hinata.” He says, turning to level a cool stare down at the younger man. “If there is anything you want me to be cautious of, then  _ get it out of my way _ .” 

Hinata gulps and looks taken aback, but he does shut up and hops up from his chair to start gathering various vials and flasks and what look to be magical tools into baskets that previously housed misplaced books. He’s actually quite efficient, and within the next hour, they manage to clear enough of the clutter for Akaashi to actually begin proper cleaning. Every surface he can find is thoroughly scrubbed down, and while he is sweeping the floor, Hinata busies himself cleaning and organizing the items from the baskets. 

Despite how aloof he initially perceived the younger man to be, Hinata proves to be very dedicated and helpful in his tasks. Akaashi eventually finds that he doesn’t have to ask him to start on something else- he just picks out things to do that both keep him busy and takes him out of Akaashi’s way. He feels a little bad for mischaracterizing the redhead, especially since he  _ was _ Bokuto’s apprentice. He’d probably have to be wickedly smart to have even gotten here, after all. 

Tsukishima is quite intelligent, too, he finds. It’s wasted on him, though, because he seems to put all of his wit into snarking at the both of them while they move about the place. Akaashi thinks that, alone, he could probably handle it; Hinata is another story. Their bickering gets on his nerve, even if he doesn’t speak up about it beyond occasionally throwing a retort back at the fire. He also makes sure to leave the fireplace for his last downstairs task, and ignores the fire when he starts complaining about needing more wood. 

There are still decently sized chunks of it left, anyway. He’s fine. 

“Hey, seriously, I can’t do my job without fuel. You can take two seconds to give me another log.” Tsukishima snaps when Akaashi is setting away the last clean dish, and the older man rolls his eyes and turns back to look at the fire. 

“I have to clean the ash, anyway. You’ll be fine for just a minute longer.” Akaashi says, finally moving to grab a blanket and spread it around the base of the fireplace. The ash shovel is plucked from the fire tools to the side, and he scrapes away the heaping piles from around Tsukishima while the fire crackles louder in irritation. 

“Akaashi, I am practically embers here. Please, I need  _ something _ to burn.” 

“Oh? He has manners now?” Akaashi teases, grabbing a metal bucket he’d found earlier for the job and grabbing the log Tsukishima is clinging to with the fireplace tongs. The fire gasps as he’s lifted, and the base of him hangs down below the log as Akaashi transfers him to balance atop the bucket. It appears that there is something inside the fire, but it’s a bit too bright for Akaashi to focus on directly, and he figures the demon had to have some sort of physical form keeping him in place, so he doesn’t focus too hard on it. 

“Wait, wait, no, you can’t-” Tsukishima sounds fairly panicked now, and Akaashi sighs and keeps scraping the ash into the blanket. 

“Tsukishima, I will be done in a moment, and then you will have a clean fireplace and fresh kindling. Can you hold on for me until then?” He doesn’t actually look at the fire, but he does move a bit faster if for no other reason than to get this whole ordeal over more quickly so he’ll stop  _ complaining _ . As soon as the last of the ash is swept into the blanket, he quickly gathers the corners and carries it out of the door to the Wastes to shake it out. 

He doesn’t see when the flimsy log Tsukishima is clinging to snaps in half, and the fire drops to the bottom of the bucket with a quiet whooshing noise. 

When he comes back up the stairs, he sees instead that Bokuto has returned, and he’s given Tsukishima a new pile of wood and appears to be helping the fire catch the logs a little quicker. There’s another sad little smile on his face, and Akaashi’s heart breaks at seeing it. 

Tsukishima seems to be gasping as he flares back to life, and as soon as he notices Akaashi, he shoots him a murderous glare and crackles loudly. Bokuto follows his gaze and grins over at the old man, but there’s still a quiet pain in his eyes. 

Akaashi can’t  _ stand _ it.

“Hey, ‘Kaashi! I know he can be pretty mean sometimes, but I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t make Tsukki suffer, okay? He’s still my friend, y’know?” Bokuto says, breezing past Akaashi- who is still standing at the top of the staircase- and pausing at the door to call back up the stairs. 

“Hey, Shouyou?” Akaashi’s brows furrow at the name he hasn’t heard before, but he hears a clatter in the background as Hinata drops whatever he’s doing to snap to attention.

“Yes, Master?” Hinata calls back, rushing to the railing around the staircase to look down at Bokuto. 

“You guys are doing good work cleaning up, but make sure ‘Kaashi doesn’t get too carried away, yeah?” Bokuto asks, turning his attention from his apprentice to the man in question and throwing him a playful wink. 

“Will do!” Hinata gives a little salute, and Bokuto grins back at him and turns the knob at the door until the corresponding dial goes black. 

“I won’t be back until late, so don’t wait up!” The wizard says, pulling the door open and jumping out into the inky blackness. Akaashi sees his coat flutter wildly behind him as he goes, as if there’s a violent wind whipping at him from all direction, but he hears no sound and does not have time to try and make out any more details of the mysterious place before the door is slammed shut again, and the dial goes back to blue. 

He feels a sinking feeling in his chest at that- something inside him telling him that wherever Bokuto has gone, it’s nowhere good. That terrifying, dark place is dangerous, and if the wizard ends up hurt-

“So, what happened? What did you do to Tsukishima?” Hinata’s voice breaks Akaashi’s train of thought before it can go too dark, and the older man lets out a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

“Damn old bastard nearly killed me!” Tsukishima answers before Akaashi can stutter out a reply, and he shoots the fire an apologetic look. 

“What? How did that happen?” Hinata gasps, eyes wide as they dart back and forth between Akaashi and Tsukishima. 

Guilt overwhelms him, and he looks down at the ground and- despite what he’s already resolved from the night before- he wrings his hands together in frustration. The arthritis protests, but he doesn’t care about the discomfort. Tsukishima may be a demon, and he may sass Akaashi a bit too much for his liking, but he’s a decent fellow. Akaashi doesn’t know what he would have done if he’d been responsible for his demise. 

“I… I didn’t know. I’m terribly sorry. I had no intention of hurting you, Tsukishima. I thought… I just wanted to clean the fireplace, is all.” He says, eyes fixed pointedly at the floor and trying to hold back the anxiety welling up inside him. 

A loud sigh comes from the fireplace, and he has to physically restrain himself from flinching at the sound. 

“It’s fine now, right? You didn’t know. Just listen to me next time, please.” Tsukishima says, and Akaashi’s eyes dart back up to see that the fire is fixing him with a slightly apologetic stare. It eases Akaashi’s worries, just a little, and he offers the fire a low bow and a small smile. 

Before he can straighten back up, Tsukishima speaks again, and it sends ice shooting through Akaashi’s veins. 

“After all, if I die, so does Bokuto.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a possibility the next update may be a little slower this time, I'm going to TRY and sketch up the boys in this AU, and depending on how well (or badly) that goes, there may be some visual references for y'all soon! But since drawing takes me a while sometimes, that means I won't be writing quite as much, but at least once I'm done (or given up, whichever comes first) I'll dive right back in to the next chapter! 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know what you think, every time I see a notification in my inbox the serotonin machine goes brrrrrr in my brain <3


	4. A Clean Start, A New Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi throws himself into cleaning the castle, and maybe gets a little carried away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I'm back! Sorry for the late update but life has been kinda bonkers for me lately and I've had a LOT of trouble writing this chapter. I had to change up several things that happen and I hope that they still make the same sort of impact, but who knows! I don't have a beta so y'all's feedback is the only kind I get (and I enjoy it immensely). Hope you enjoy this chapter! It's a bit longer than usual, but there was a lot of stuff to get through and I'm suuuper lazy at editing so. Yeah.

Worry gnaws away at the back of Akaashi’s mind as he mindlessly cleans away at the castle. Regardless of Bokuto’s warning that he would most likely return long after he’d gone to bed, his anxiety only grows worse the longer the wizard is gone. 

Even Tsukishima seems to notice that his mood has shifted, because he’s nearly silent in the fireplace, aside from the occasional comment at Hinata. When that happens, his voice is still lower than what Akaashi had gotten used to, and he’s both appreciative and frustrated at the treatment. It isn’t as if he can share his concerns with the two others in the house- he hasn’t known either of them well enough to subject them to  _ that  _ conversation. 

He wishes Kiyoko was there. Sure, she’d chastise him for falling so quickly for the very wizard she’d warned him to be wary of, but beyond that she would listen and try to advise him. Whether he’d take or not, he didn’t know. Either way, he can’t very well hold a conversation with her in this state. She’d likely never let him out of her sights again. 

Diving into the work allows him to focus on something else; to let each task shove that nagging feeling further and further back for him to deal with later. When the first floor is practically sparkling, he mechanically changes out the soapy water in his bucket to carry upstairs with him. 

“Um, Akaashi?” Hinata says, looking up from where he’s been taking a small lunch break at the table, “Where are you going?” 

Akaashi turns to raise an eyebrow at the young man, who has gone stiff where he sits. “I’m cleaning. Did you think that didn’t apply to the rest of the castle?”

Hinata bolts out of his chair and rushes over to the stairs, blocking off Akaashi’s path. The older man can’t help but smile a little slyly, putting a hand on his hip and narrowing his eyes at Hinata’s wild-eyed face and the way he’s stuttering out to come up with an excuse. 

“M-Master Bokuto said not to get carried away so! You shouldn’t just… wander! You could break something!” Hinata says. His arms wave animatedly at his sides, both cutting off Akaashi’s way forward as well as emphasizing his point. It’s obvious he’s just trying to hide something- and hey, he  _ is  _ a teenage boy after all. Akaashi’s perception of him wouldn’t change no matter what he might find- he’s been there, he knows- but he’s sure the young man might still be ashamed of his budding sexuality. 

“Hinata, I do not intend to go through all of your belongings. I’m simply going to straighten things up, dust, sweep, change the bedsheets, and gather the laundry. If there are things you’d prefer I don’t see, I suggest you put them away quickly.” Akaashi says evenly, staring the younger man down and waiting for him to move out of the way. Hinata’s cheeks go cherry-red, and he glances back in the direction of his bedroom, then back at Akaashi. A finger is suddenly jabbed in the older man’s face, and Hinata gives him a look that might have come off as serious if he weren’t so flushed. 

“D-Don’t come in my room until I say! And even I’m not allowed in Master Bokuto’s room, so you probably shouldn’t go in there either!” Hinata stutters out, and then whips around and up the stairs in the blink of an eye, and Akaashi just snickers and trudges up after him. 

Once he catches sight of the tragic state of the bathroom, he’s instantly able to tuck away his anxieties about what Tsukishima had told him. The dust and clutter that had taken up the downstairs was nothing compared to the mess he was facing now. 

The bathwater was  _ green _ . There’s also various splatters of unknown liquids coating the walls, floor, and the bathtub and sink- bright colors that probably were some potion or another, but how long they’d been there was the pressing question. Akaashi feels nauseous just looking at it. Somehow it doesn’t…  _ smell _ particularly badly, and in fact is scented quite pleasantly of woodsmoke and pine. Or it might be pleasant, if it weren’t so thick and intense. He can almost taste it. It’s hot, too- steam fogs his glasses and lingers in the air from the hot water that must have been from Bokuto’s morning bath- which he tries  _ very  _ hard not to think about- and sweat gathers at his brow from just the few seconds he spends taking in the state of things.

Needing to let out the scent and take in a breath of fresh air, Akaashi makes his way to the decently sized window against the wall. Why a bathroom needs a window, he isn’t sure- but out in these hills and valleys, it isn’t as if there’s a worry over privacy. He throws it open after a little struggle with the steam-bloated wood, and the relief is near instant as a harsh gust of wind sweeps through the room and cools down the overwhelming heat enough to be bearable. 

Outside, the landscape passes by quickly at the speed the castle’s going. The fog dissipates from his glasses quickly from the breeze, and he’s able to take in the picturesque day perfectly clearly. It’s sunny out, and the mists have lifted under the heat of the sun. Above, clouds are drifting by a bit faster than normal with the wind whipping by so fast- or maybe it’s just an illusion brought on by just how fast they’re moving. The scenery of the green hills and bright blue sky are beautiful, but that’s not what has him impressed. The thought occurs to him, quite suddenly, that the fragile little flame in the fireplace downstairs is what is making this happen. 

Tsukishima is hauling this giant, clunky castle smoothly through the hills with surprising speed, without having shown even an ounce of strain the last time he’d seen him. Magic was incredible.

The bathroom could wait- and it needed to air out anyway. He’d seen what looked like a balcony door a bit down the hall, and he wanted to feel the breezes on his skin again. He sets the bucket down on the floor, and rushes back out of the room to the balcony door. He pauses a moment, and then moves back to the staircase and takes just enough steps down to peek into the living room. 

“Tsukishima, you’re the one moving the castle, right?” He calls down, waiting the fire turn to cast a disinterested gaze his direction, like this is nothing for him. 

“Of course I am. Do you see anyone either of the other two doing any real work around here?” Tsukishima calls back, sounding a mix of cocky and irritated. Akaashi finds it amusing, and grins down at the demon. 

“I’m very impressed! You’re incredible, truly, I like your spark!” He says, and then he darts back up towards the balcony door. He hears Tsukishima laugh gleefully, just before the sound is drowned out by the wind rushing by when he throws open the door. 

Compared to the darkness inside the house, the sunny landscape is blindingly bright for a moment, and Akaashi has to blink against the temporary harshness of it. When he can manage to look properly without his eyes burning, he’s stunned by the gorgeous countryside around him. They’re fairly high up on a ridge of hills now, and below is a vast lake sitting low in the valley, surrounded by a spattering of trees clinging to the bases of the slopes. There are still thick clouds of fog rolling by on the other side of the water, where the breeze must not be as insistent as it is further up. 

Altogether, it’s an astonishing view. He can’t remember the last time he’s been somewhere so beautiful. He wishes his sister could see it, too, but… there’s also a small part of him that feels a little selfish. Like he wants all of this to be his. He wants to stay here. To keep seeing all these strange wonders for as long as he can. To hold onto Bokuto and his world forever. 

He’s being greedy. 

Something moves in the corner of his eye, something that didn’t seem to be part of the castle, if the strange and out of place banging noise it’s causing is any indication. When he moves closer to get a proper look, he sees a long stick that’s got oddly familiar notches and angles to it. His brows furrow as he leans against the rail surrounding the balcony, and he looks into the crevice it’s wedged into and sees rumpled fabric peeking up at him. He sighs as recognition hits him, and he reaches over to try and tug the stick free. 

“Still following me, are you?” He calls down, yanking fruitlessly at the thing and grunting in frustration when he makes no progress prying it free. Much to his luck, the door opens behind him, and Hinata comes into the corner of his eye to peer down at what he’s doing. “Help me, would you? I can’t quite manage it.”

“What is it?” Hinata asks, but he doesn’t wait for an explanation before leaning over the railing and securing a grip on it as well. 

“A friend, I think. I owe him this much, at least.” Akaashi answers, giving a tug with the younger man’s help and finally managing to pull up the scarecrow from where he’s stuck. They use the railing to turn him upright, and Hinata studies him closely for a minute, eyes intense and full of curiosity. 

“Where did he come from?”

“I’m not entirely sure. He’s been following me for a while. I doubt I’d have made it this far without his help.” It’s said without much forethought, and Akaashi goes a little stiff when he feels Hinata’s gaze shift over to him suspiciously. He’s said that Tsukishima was the one that brought him here, and as weak an excuse as it is, it’s worked until now. He only hopes the younger man doesn’t throw him out immediately for lying. 

His throat feels thicker the longer Hinata stares at him, and what must only be a second or two feels very much like hours under that scrutinization. 

“Well, if he’s a friend of yours, he’s a friend of mine!” An earnest smile is given to him then, and Akaashi feels fondness well up in his chest. He shouldn’t feel as at home as he does here, under these circumstances, but… he genuinely cannot find it in himself to wish he were anywhere else right now. 

The scarecrow moves suddenly, jumping up from where he’d been leaning against the rail, and hops off the balcony and up onto an outcrop of metal that looks like it might be used to ventilate steam, and does a little twirl as it bounces in place there. It seems to be a grateful gesture, and Akaashi feels his lips stretch into a small smile. Despite the fact that he’d tried to shake the turnip-head before, he’s glad that he’s still around. 

He’s already taken on the task of freeing himself and Tsukishima both of their curses, so really, what was one more? He owes it to the scarecrow for bringing him here, anyway. 

“Could we ask Tsukishima to bring us to the lake? We’ve got to do laundry, and it looks nice.” He asks, looking back at the scarecrow and holding up a finger at him as he turns back to the door, as if to say ‘I’ll be back, don’t go’. 

“We can, but it’s no guarantee he will. I think he’s in a good mood, though. He likes you.” Hinata says, following inside after him. The small admission makes Akaashi smile again; makes him feel warm that the incredible beings in this house seem to enjoy his company, even as boring as he may be. 

He feels like he’s wanted, here. 

“Tsukishima?” He calls down the stairs, making his way down and smiling even wider when the fire looks up at him. He still seems quite chuffed after Akaashi’s compliment, and doesn’t even huff or sigh or snark when Akaashi asks, “Would you mind taking us to the lake for a bit? I’d like to see it up close.”

“Sure. I’m tired of lugging this thing around anyway. Could use the break.” Tsukishima answers. There’s no outward indication that he’s changing their direction- Akaashi can’t even feel the house moving from the inside at all, but he’s sure that Tsukishima is working very hard to descend the hills they’re atop. 

“Thank you.” Akaashi says, and then turns his attention back to the wizard apprentice, who is just grinning at them both, like he’s never seen Tsukishima be this pleasant before. “Would you help me gather the laundry? I don’t have quite the same boundless energy as you do.”

Hinata puffs out his chest, proud, and nods vigorously. “Consider it done!”

An hour later, the laundry is clean, and the cool breeze is blowing over them as the scarecrow helps string up lines to dry the clothes and sheets on. Akaashi isn’t sure what he’s done to make the thing go so far out of its way for him, but he appreciates the assistance anyway. Hinata seems to enjoy his company as well, and the two of them end up bouncing around one another in circles for a while, and even having what seems to be a jumping competition. It’s surprising how high Hinata can manage to go, but the scarecrow can manage to scale the castle with a few hops, so the young man loses by default. This does not seem to dampen the young man’s spirits, though, because he still somehow has energy to help Akaashi carry out a small table and chairs to have a small lakeside snack. 

“So, what do you think that guy’s deal is?” Hinata asks around a mouthful of his ham sandwich, staring up at the scarecrow perched atop the castle with a line of laundry tied to where his wrist would be. Akaashi shoots him a look for talking with his mouth full, and the redhead sheepishly closes his mouth and makes an effort to chew more carefully. 

“I haven’t figured that out yet. He hasn’t done anything bad, though. In fact, he’s been rather kind and generous with me. I think maybe he’s a demon.” Hinata’s eyes go wide at that, and snap back up in concern until Akaashi chuckles and pats the younger man’s hand. “I think he might be like Tsukishima. A friendly demon.”

“Tsukki’s not always that nice.” Hinata grumbles, but he seems placated with Akaashi’s answer anyway, and turns to look over the quiet lake instead. “What are you gonna do when the castle’s all clean?”

“Cleaning a place once does not keep it clean, Hinata. Upkeep is important, too.” Akaashi says, following his gaze to watch the way the wind stirs up ripples on the water’s surface. He’s not entirely sure how long he’ll be able to keep this position, but so far nobody seems to be trying to get him out. Bokuto himself had seemed more than happy to make room for a guest. 

He only hopes he doesn’t overstay his welcome before he can get this curse sorted. 

“Well, I guess it’s good you’re here. Master Bokuto has been away a lot lately, and it gets lonely sometimes. Tsukki’s fine to talk to sometimes, but he’s not human and a lot of the time he just doesn’t care and ignores me. I like talking to you, though.”

The honesty, and the quiet sort of longing that comes from Hinata when he says that is a little heartbreaking, and Akaashi has to bite his lip to keep down his emotion at that. Every passing second he feels more and more like he belongs, and he  _ shouldn’t _ . This isn’t his world. This isn’t his family, this isn’t his  _ body _ -

But he thinks it might be okay if this is just how things are, now. If this old age brings him an early death, he doesn’t mind it being here. The thought scares him, a little, but it doesn’t quite  _ bother _ him. 

Maybe that was another perk of old age. He’s suddenly a lot more alright with all this insanity. 

He’s not as disgusted the next time he steps into the bathroom. His heart feels too light to be upset, and the rest of the day passes rather quickly as he throws himself back into cleaning. The bathroom is spotless and organized when he leaves it, and then he finds a rather impressive library- completely scattered with books- and spends the rest of the evening getting lost in dusting and reshelving the various works. Half of them are full of symbols and languages he couldn’t possibly hope to interpret, and he finds himself wondering just how brilliant the wizard and his apprentice are if  _ they  _ can read all this. 

By the time he wanders back out, it’s gone dark outside, and exhaustion is settling heavily in his bones. Tsukishima cooperates to help him make a simple dinner of meat and potatoes, but he doesn’t find himself particularly hungry, and he ends up feeding the fire more than half of his own meal before deciding he can’t stay up any longer. 

Hinata had been kind enough to set up a proper place for him to sleep while he’d been engrossed in the library, and he smiles and ruffles the bright orange hair fondly as he draws back the curtain framing the comfortable-looking sofa set up with fresh sheets and pillows for him. 

“Thank you, Hinata. This is very thoughtful.” He says, and is blinded once again by the young man’s proud grin beaming up at him at the praise. 

“Yeah! I mean, it must have hurt on that chair, right? We can get you a proper bed sometime, too, but Master Bokuto would need to help with that, probably.” Hinata says, giving Akaashi a small and affectionate pat on the back. “But, um, I just thought that for now it’d be, like, a nice welcome, you know?” 

Akaashi has to turn away to hide the overwhelmed, grateful tears that threaten to spring forth at that. 

“It is. Very nice. You… you should get some rest, too. You must be tired after all that running around.” He says, and it’s a miracle his voice stays steady. Hinata bids him goodnight, and then shoots up the stairs like a bullet, and Akaashi swipes at his damp eyes and fights away the pleasant tugging in his chest. 

This is  _ temporary _ . He doesn’t have this forever. 

That thought doesn’t keep him from falling asleep that night with a smile stretched over his face. 

* * *

Creaky pipes and the sound of rushing water are what wakes him the next morning. Bokuto must be home again, he thinks, because Hinata is sitting at the table with a book and an apple when Akaashi slips on his glasses and peeks through the curtains. The young man looks content, with a deep focus on the page in front of him, and his legs idly swinging back and forth between the legs of the chair. Tsukishima doesn’t look particularly pleased when Akaashi dares to check on him, but at least the two of them aren’t snapping at each other anymore. 

“Good morning.” Akaashi greets as he makes his way properly into the room. His long hair is hanging loosely over his shoulders, and it’s already starting to bother him with the way it’s draping into his face, so he busies himself with tying it back as Hinata’s attention shifts up to him. 

“Oh! You’re up! Are you hungry? We used up most all the stuff to cook by now, but there’s still some fruit!” Hinata says, holding up the apple to demonstrate. There’s a drop of juice clinging to his cheek, and Akaashi chuckles and grabs a handkerchief out of his pocket to toss at the younger man. 

“Wipe your face. And, no, I’m alright for now. I think it’s about time we do a bit of shopping, in that case. Where could we do that?” Akaashi asks, settling into a chair and eyeing the dial above the door. The black block still vexes him, but he isn’t going to press the topic with Hinata if he really doesn’t know anything. Maybe Tsukishima could tell him, some other time. 

“Karasuno has a decent market! It’s by the ocean, too!” Hinata says, slamming his book shut- too loudly- and hopping up from his chair. “I have to go get my disguise, though! Just give me a minute to go find it!”

Akaashi snickers at the mental image of the disguise again, and when Hinata disappears up the staircase towards his room, the older man also rises to properly dress for the day. He’ll have to buy some more clothes too, most likely, considering he hadn’t had the foresight to bring many spares with him, but that was something to think about later. At least his clothes are clean enough for today. 

It had been warmer when he last went out into Karasuno, so he decides to leave his favorite scarf tucked away neatly atop the pillow he’s been provided by his hosts. His overcoat is left behind as well, and by the time he’s tying his shoelaces, Hinata’s thunderous footsteps boom down the steps. 

“Do you have to make so much racket this early in the morning?” Tsukishima gripes when the redhead comes into view. The fire had been uncharacteristically quiet since Akaashi had risen, and now the older man finds himself studying the flame’s disgruntled expression a little more closely. 

The fact that he hasn’t known Tsukishima very long doesn’t change the fact that he can feel something is…  _ off _ about him today. Hinata doesn’t appear any different, and it had been peaceful and quiet when he woke up, so the sunny younger man doesn’t seem to be the issue. Akaashi is fairly certain he hasn’t done anything himself to set the fire off, but he can’t be sure. Unless…

Had something happened with Bokuto last night? 

Akaashi doesn’t remember the wizard coming back in, but he’s clearly here if the roaring of the water pipes is any indication. Ugh. Remembering the state of the bathroom before he’d finished cleaning it was a nightmare in and of itself. 

He realizes he’s overthinking when there’s suddenly a hand waving in front of his face, and he jerks his head back in surprise to see that two sets of eyes are fixed on him- Hinata’s expression is more concern, but Tsukishima’s giving him a sort of serious look that he can’t quite discern yet. 

“Akaashi? You okay? Do you need to sit down?” Hinata asks, putting a hand delicately on Akaashi’s shoulder and waiting for a response with his teeth sunk into his lower lip. It’s… not  _ pity _ in his eyes, but something a little more heartfelt and sincere, and it makes Akaashi’s lips curve up in a small, appreciative smile. 

“I’m alright. I could use a bit of coffee, that’s all.” Akaashi replies, fixing his gaze on himself and smoothing out the creases in his button-down. He’ll have to iron it later, after they get back. 

“Oh! There’s a great cafe in town we could go to!” Hinata supplies, and there’s an edge to his tone that sounds even more excited than usual. 

“Any excuse to see your boyfriend, hm?” Tsukishima says from the fireplace, and when Akaashi looks the sharpness in the flame’s eyes has morphed into something more teasing and playful. His small smirk turns to a grin when Hinata’s face goes almost as red as his hair and he sputters indignantly. 

“Shut it, Tsukki! He’s not- I- he’s just a nice person who works there!” Even Akaashi can’t help but giggle at the young man’s flustered speech, and Hinata whips back around to give him a betrayed look. “It’s not funny! He’s just a friend! And he makes really, really good coffee!” 

“Mm, I’m sure. I have no reason to doubt you. I’d very much like to meet this ‘friend’ who makes ‘really, really good coffee’.” Akaashi says, patting Hinata on the shoulder and steering him towards the door. He pauses for a moment before descending and turns back to Tsukishima, who is once again fixing him with an unreadable expression. How he manages to shift moods like that, Akaashi does not know. “Is there… anything you need? While we’re out? Do you have… preferences? For burning material?” He asks, unsure what it is that a fire demon could possibly need, but it’s the polite thing to ask. 

Tsukishima seems a bit taken aback by the question, though, and crackles a little in his place like he’s unsure how to answer. His mouth opens and closes a few times, and then he finally settles on, “The smell wouldn’t be overly pleasant, but… I like strawberries. And cake.” 

If he had a normal human face and body, Akaashi thinks Tsukishima would be blushing. As it is, the wood burning under the fire is making little popping and hissing sounds, like the flame has gotten hotter suddenly, and Akaashi just smiles. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” With that, Hinata turns the knob to the orange section of the dial- already in disguise- and Akaashi hurries down the steps to follow after him. 

The cafe isn’t far from where ‘Wizard Horned Owl’ shop sits, but Akaashi still spends the whole way listening to Hinata insist that  _ he’s not my boyfriend _ , and  _ it’s not like I have a crush on him he’s just nice to talk to,  _ and  _ just because he’s got a pretty face and he’s tall and lean doesn’t mean I’m attracted _ . All in his ridiculous ‘disguise voice’. Akaashi just nods along, not even pretending he’s not smiling slyly at the increasingly frustrated younger man. It’s especially hard to keep quiet when the shop door is pushed open, the bell jingles, and the greeting they receive is a loud “Shouyou!” from the tall man behind the bar. Hinata’s whole face lights up, and he looks like he’s about to throw himself bodily across the shop to get to the dark-haired man before remembering he has a guest, and also that he currently looks like an elderly man himself.

“Ahem, g-good morning, Kageyama. It’s good to see you.” Hinata says in his ridiculous ‘old man’ voice, lifting his bearded face and striding towards the counter with purpose. Something shifts in the barista’s eyes at the way he’s addressed, and Akaashi sees a light flush of pink rise to his cheeks when Hinata reaches him. “This is my, um, business associate, Akaashi.” 

Kageyama eyes him suspiciously for a moment, darting between the two of them for a moment, and then he fixes Hinata with an intense stare, subtly points at Akaashi, and tilts his head to the side in an unspoken question. At that, Akaashi sighs and takes a look around the shop- which is empty aside from the three of them. 

“There isn’t anyone else here. We can speak plainly.” Akaashi says, and then meets Kageyama’s gaze with a polite smile. “I assume you’re familiar with Hinata’s situation?” He asks, giving the shorter man’s hood a small tug- which earns him a huff and a nudge from an elbow- and Kageyama nods. 

“His disguise still sucks. Yours isn’t bad, though.” Kageyama says, turning away to start fixing a drink- he probably knows Hinata’s order, after all. 

But his comment gives Akaashi pause, and he can see Hinata’s head whip up in his direction from the corner of his eye. He meets the stare with a bit of a sad smile, and then looks down at his own wrinkled and aged hands. He’s almost sure that Hinata knows Akaashi isn’t what he appears to be- the young man is far too sharp and perceptive for it to have escaped his notice- but it brings into question what Hinata  _ does _ think about him. 

Thankfully, Hinata has the good graces to not bring it up in front of someone he’s so clearly smitten with. 

“My disguise doesn’t  _ suck _ , my magic is gonna be  _ amazing _ someday, just you watch.” Hinata says, and he’s talking in his normal voice now. Kageyama’s eyes roll at the comment, and he aims a smug grin down at the shorter man. 

“I’ll believe that when I see it. You talk big, but I haven’t seen that costume improve even a little in the last two years.” Kageyama sneers, pouring fresh milk into a pitcher and lifting it up to the steam wand to heat, then goes about preparing the espresso for the drink. 

“Extra-”

“Extra chocolate, yes, I know.” Kageyama cuts Hinata off with a wave of his hand, and snickers when Hinata huffs in irritation and taps his foot impatiently on the floor. 

“And  _ excuse _ you, but I have to keep my disguise consistent. How else are people gonna recognize me when they need potions and magic? Stupid Kageyama.” 

“The least you could do is make it more realistic, shortass.”

Akaashi watches them bicker quietly, suddenly feeling forlorn that he’s entirely missed out on this part of his life. He’s never in his life been bold enough to do more than quietly daydream about having a love of his own to cherish, and even those had come few and far between in his days as a teenager, and had all but faded to nothingness when he accepted his lot in life. 

Love had never been on the table for him. Not even his mother or sister tried to set him up with anyone anymore, and they had given up on it fairly quickly after he officially took over the clock shop a few years prior. Most of his life he thought that, perhaps, he simply wasn’t capable of romantic love. His thoughts on that changed the day he was swept up into the sky by a wizard more beautiful than he would ever be. 

So it was only natural that life threw him a curveball the moment things seemed to be taking an upward turn. 

There was also something a little too on-the-nose about watching Hinata, purposefully disguised as an old man of his own volition, flirting with a man who appeared to be much younger. A younger man who flirted back and saw the face behind the disguise and made moon eyes at Hinata even as he insulted him again. 

Suddenly the only thing in the world he wants is for Bokuto to see past his disguise. Even if his feelings aren’t returned, he just wants Bokuto to remember him. He wants the wizard to know how grateful he is for showing him something new, and it doesn’t matter if he has to go right back to his normal way of life right afterwards, alone again. 

At least he would have the memory. 

“-’kaashi? Akaashi? Hey, you sure you’re okay?” Hinata’s voice filters into his consciousness, and he blinks again when he sees two sets of eyes staring him down intensely. Hinata’s disguise has been pulled back down for the moment, and he feels a gentle squeeze at his wrist and looks down to see that there’s a small hand wrapped around it. 

“Ah- yes, I’m fine. Tired, still.” Akaashi says, giving Hinata a reassuring smile and gently retracting his wrist from the younger man’s grasp. Both Kageyama and Hinata look a little sheepish at the comment, and glance at each other briefly before the tall barista speaks. 

“Sorry, I’m not used to Hinata having company, I- uh, what can I get you?” Kageyama asks. He doesn’t move from the bar, and Akaashi glances at the little cash register in front of him and points at it. He doesn’t even get to ask about payment before Kageyama is waving him off and gesturing at Hinata. “First cup is free. We made a deal and- anyways, whatever, it’s on the house. Shut up, Shouyou.”

“I didn’t even say anything yet!” Hinata protests, an angry pout on his face, but the glare he receives from the taller boy has him huffing and looking away- no doubt trying to hide his red face. “Whatever, stupid Kageyama.” 

“I’m not overly familiar with this sort of stuff. You can make whatever you like. Just not very sweet, please.” Akaashi answers finally, furrowing his brows at the different terms he’s only really seen a few times but never bothered to order himself. Kiyoko’s bakery served coffee as well, though nothing fancier than plain black coffee with the option of cream and sugar. 

Kageyama nods his understanding and sets about fixing him a basic latte, and their conversations die when a pair of giggling ladies enter the shop and call out to the tall barista. Hinata’s disguise is quickly raised before the girls can notice- but they aren’t paying attention anyway. Both of them immediately take to overtly flirting with Kageyama, batting their long lashes and twisting their styled curls around their fingers. Hinata, for once, goes very quiet, and it doesn’t take much to realize that he’s getting jealous. 

Akaashi wants to laugh, because Kageyama has immediately given them the cold shoulder and replies very curtly to each of their questions and not-so-subtle hints. Clearly the barista only has eyes for Hinata, and neither of them seem to have fully come to that conclusion yet. 

“Ah, well, we should probably go do the shopping. He’s busy.” Hinata says after a moment, striding past the girls and brushing shoulders probably a little too hard with one of them. Neither of them complain, though, too focused on vying for attention they would never receive from the now stoic barista. 

“Thank you, Kageyama.” Akaashi calls back when they make it to the door, and he gives a small bow- but the younger man’s eyes are fixed just past his shoulder on Hinata. 

“Sure. Next time.” He calls back, and Akaashi hears the girls huff at being ignored a second before the door shuts behind them. 

Akaashi wants so very badly to tease Hinata about how obvious he’d been in there, but the sour mood the redhead has suddenly taken on make him decide instead to change the subject entirely. He asks about magic, and what sorts of things Hinata can do, and how long he’s been living in the castle, and what all the languages were in the books he’d found in the library. Hinata starts off a little sullen, but the closer to the market they get, and the more he’s given a chance to boast, he grows brighter and brighter until he’s back to being the energetic ball of sunshine he usually is. 

Somewhere deep inside, he is envious of Hinata’s ability to be so free, to be happy and to be  _ himself _ . Whoever Akaashi might have been has long since been forgotten. He’s glad, though, that this kind young man is getting to pursue a life he’s clearly passionate about. His enthusiasm about it will make him amazing someday, he thinks. 

It’s nice, too, that with Hinata around, Akaashi doesn’t really have to talk all that much. A comment here and there, a question once in a while was enough; Hinata could take the lead from there and talk and talk and  _ talk _ to fill the time as they moved through the market. He isn’t entirely sure what he’ll say if Hinata were to ask about  _ his _ life, but the wizard apprentice seems perfectly content sharing anything and everything about his studies in magic. 

It does seem strange, though, how little information he receives about Bokuto in the process. Sure, Hinata says his name several times in reference to things that he’s been taught by the man, and it’s inevitable not to mention his name when speaking of living with him, but Akaashi doesn’t get much more of a read on what sort of person he is. Kind, smart, funny, sure. But those were surface level things that Akaashi had observed in his first few minutes of knowing him. 

He hates that he can’t get the wizard out of his head today. It’s embarrassing when the fishmonger has to clear his throat  _ twice _ just to get his attention. Hinata is standing off to the side, a hand over his nose and a scowl on his bearded face as he glares at the cod Akaashi is purchasing. The same scowl he’d worn when Akaashi bought the onions, or the garlic, or the spinach. He wonders if he’s ever eaten any of it properly cooked, and promises that he’ll have Hinata try them one way or another. 

A gasp, and a sudden outburst of shouting draws Akaashi’s attention away from the fish he’s placing in his wicker basket, and when he follows the trail of the crowd rushing around him, he nearly drops the whole thing. 

Drifting slowly into the harbor that the market overlooks is some sort of ship- he’s not sure what its purpose is, but there are flames and thick smoke pouring into the sky above it. It’s too far away for him to see clearly, but it looks like the sailors are diving overboard and swimming quickly towards the rescue boats that are setting off to reach them. Hinata drifts closer, eyes wide and worried, and Akaashi has to grab his shoulder to keep him from going too far. He can’t stomach this kind of thing. Even if nobody ends up hurt, it’s painful to watch, and he turns his gaze back to the alley they came from. 

“We shouldn’t get caught in this crowd, we sh-” his words turn to ash on his tongue and fear lances through his every limb when a familiar figure steps into view around the corner. It’s dark, snakelike, and gooey, and dressed in vibrant colors that make Akaashi’s stomach twist itself into knots. 

“I just need to see-”

“Hinata, we need to leave, right now.” Akaashi says, voice low and urgent. His hand tightens around the redhead’s shoulder, and apparently it’s enough. Hinata looks back at him and nods, but then begins to move in the direction of the blob creature- he probably hasn’t even noticed. 

Before the older man can think of an excuse to go the opposite direction, a loud whistling sound suddenly echoes out through the air, loud enough that Akaashi has to cover his ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise. It’s followed by a splash, and then a boom, and then it happens all over again. 

Bombs are dropping into the water. 

_ They need to leave.  _

Akaashi doesn’t wait for a third bomb. He seizes Hinata’s wrist and tucks the basket securely against his waist, and begins to run. At least the blob creature has vanished by now. He can’t handle any more trouble. 

So, naturally, the humming noise of an airship overhead becomes apparent in the air, and then papers start fluttering down around them like rain- tossed out of the ship and doubtlessly loaded with some propaganda Akaashi cannot bear to look at. He needs the safety of the castle. He needs the assurance that Tsukishima, that  _ Bokuto _ can protect them. He needs… he needs-

Home. 

The second he bursts through the door, the thought hits him with the weight of a packed trolley. He’s barely been here two days, and it feels more like a home to him than any house he’s lived in since… well, since his father died. He finds his hand slowly moving over the hidden breast pocket in the lining of his blazer, feeling the comforting outline of his fob watch press lightly against his palm and his chest. His throat feels tight, suddenly, and he can barely hear what Hinata is saying beside him. 

Ah, he just keeps spacing out today. He should pull it together. 

“Hey!” A hand waves in front of him again, and he inhales sharply and whips his head to the side to meet the younger man’s eyes. “Akaashi, seriously, are you doing okay?”

“Fine.” Akaashi answers, probably a little too quickly, even though he’s breathing a little too hard from having run back from town. It’s harder to catch his breath with these lungs, and even harder to haul himself up the stairs and into the living area. “I just... need a glass of water…” 

“You don’t look so good- ah, sit down, I’ll get it!” Hinata says, rushing past Akaashi and towards the sink. 

There’s a small swell of pride in Akaashi’s chest when he sinks down into the chair before the fireplace; he’s glad that Hinata has no trouble locating a glass in the newly-cleaned kitchen, thanks to their combined efforts. 

The glass has not yet reached him when there’s a bellowing shout from upstairs, followed by the thunderous sound of feet running down the upstairs hall, and then down the steps. Bokuto is loudly and dramatically crying out the whole way, and Akaashi just barely catches the sound of Tsukishima groaning in the fireplace before Bokuto drowns him out. 

“AKAASHIIIII!!! WHAT DID YOU DO?!” The wizard shouts, coming into view and grasping his hair tightly in both fists. The first thing Akaashi notices is that the normally pitch-black spikes are now hanging limp with water, and the tips have started to go white somehow. The second thing he notices is that Bokuto is dressed only in a rather small towel tied  _ very  _ loosely and slung low around his hips. He keeps his eyes on the outraged and betrayed expression on Bokuto’s face. 

“What do-” Akaashi tries, but he’s met with a groan and Bokuto very suddenly stalking forward and crowding into his space, running his hands through his hair and then gripping the damp strands tightly. As Akaashi watches, the white color slowly creeps further along towards the roots, and the old man can’t help but think that the dramatic color shift suits him quite nicely.

“My  _ hair _ , Akaashi!” Bokuto snaps, his angry look shifting suddenly to crestfallen as a lock falls in his face and he can see the color bleach away. “You messed up all my potions! I’m  _ never _ gonna get it back to how it was before!” He whines, dropping his head down and obscuring his face with the still-shifting hair. Not all of it was going white, though- there will still streaks of dark hair that were left untouched and stood out boldly from the rest. It  _ really _ did suit him. 

“The bathwater was old, and the bottles needed cleaning and organizing. Half of them were already empty.” Akaashi reasons, reaching up gently to try and coax Bokuto’s fingers loose from his hair. “I’m sure you’ll manage to fix it again, but it doesn’t look bad-”

“It’s the worst!” Bokuto shouts, snatching his body away and sinking down in the chair before Akaashi can reach him. He looks defeated as he bends forward, holding his head practically between his knees and groaning long and loud. “How am I supposed to be impressive if I look so  _ weird _ ? I looked  _ cool  _ before, now I just look like I’m crazy or something! Who’s gonna think this is handsome?” He goes quiet for a minute, but before Akaashi can think of how to respond to any of that, the wizard speaks again, low enough that Akaashi almost misses it. 

“I give up. I can’t do anything right. What’s the point of living if nobody will want someone who looks as weird as me?” 

It feels ridiculous how hard those petty complaints hit like a punch to the gut. Here Akaashi is, feeling overwhelmed by all of the amazing things he’s seen since he was swept into Bokuto’s arms- he’s been more impressed by what Bokuto would surely consider mundane than anything he’s  _ ever _ witnessed before. There isn’t a single person Akaashi knows that wouldn’t also be blown away by it all, too, and Bokuto worried that his  _ looks alone _ were what made him impressive? 

If anything, the dual-tone hair makes him look even  _ more _ incredible. The stark white complimented his beautiful golden eyes, too- what was so wrong about standing out, anyway? It was better than being plain. Boring. 

The last comment, too, strikes at Akaashi’s heartstrings, but he has little time to fully feel devastated by the confirmation that Bokuto is clearly a womanizer. The house begins to rumble beneath his feet, and the tremors grow stronger by the second. The lights all go dim, suddenly, and the shadows cast by Tsukishima’s flames elongate and start to writhe against walls that are growing warped and twisted. Akaashi’s breath catches in his throat in confusion and fear, and Bokuto just sits there in silence, doing nothing to stop the distortions. 

“Oh no,” Hinata whimpers, swallowing thickly and pressing a little closer to Akaashi, “He’s summoning dark spirits… I hate it when he does this, the shadows whisper really scary stuff. I’ve only seen it a few times, but the last time was ‘cause he got dumped. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“Hey, Bokuto, snap out of it, you’re embarrassing yourself.” Tsukishima snaps, crackling loudly to try and refocus the wizard’s attention on him, but despite his angry tone, he’s recoiling away from the shadows that are slithering ominously around him. “Stop that. There’s no need for one of your ridiculous tantrums now.”

The shadows don’t abate, and now even the wood beneath Akaashi’s feet is beginning to twist beneath him. Something has to be done- he can’t just let this go on. Besides, this was his fault to begin with, he should be the one to fix it, right? 

His emotions can’t get in the way. 

“Bokuto, I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful from now on, and I’m sure you’ll remember how to fix it.” He says, taking a step closer and sharing a wary glance with Tsukishima. “Are you alright? Really, it isn’t terrible. We can just dye it back anyway, can’t we?” He asks, trying to offer an encouraging smile, and a pat on the shoulder. 

Skin is not what he feels when his hand comes down. Something thick and slimy is bubbling up from Bokuto’s skin, and the wizard is still utterly silent and unmoving from his slumped position. Akaashi inhales sharply as he snatches his hand back and pulls away, looking at the one gold eye he can see peeking out between Bokuto’s hair- fixed on the floorboards and blank. Unseeing. Like he’s chosen to completely check out of reality. 

Over his  _ hair.  _

Akaashi feels helpless, and heartbroken, and Bokuto clearly has no interest in hearing what he has to say. There’s also a part of him that’s angry, and he wants to shout at the wizard to pull it together, to stop pitying himself over something so trivial when  _ normal _ should be an insult to the wondrous world Bokuto lives in. 

He doesn’t shout, though, much as he wants to. His voice is nowhere near steady when he speaks, but it’s only maybe a pitch higher than usual. 

“You have no right to complain. Everything about you is amazing and fantastic. You can have anything, everything you ever want, with nobody to answer to or hold you back. Normal is boring, and I’ve been boring my whole life. Have some pride.” He says, hands balling into fists at his sides. Bokuto doesn’t respond, and Akaashi feels himself grow angrier. The next words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. 

“And nobody will ever love someone when they’re boring.” 

He can feel two sets of eyes on him, but Bokuto is still resolutely ignoring him. He doesn’t even bother to meet the pitying stares Hinata and Tsukishima are giving him as he turns on his heel and swiftly makes his way back to the door. The dial is set to the Wastes, but he doesn’t care where he is. He doesn’t care that he’s immediately met by a downpour of rain. He doesn’t care that the door slams shut far more loudly than he intended behind him. 

What is he doing here? He has no real plan to break the curse he’s under, and if he’s honest with himself, he hasn’t even been trying all that hard to figure it out. He’s just let himself grow comfortable in a home that isn’t his, falling for a man who could never love him back, and clinging to this fantasy that would inevitably end badly for him one way or another. 

Foolish isn’t the right word to describe how he feels, but it’s a start. 

It’s all too much, suddenly, and a sob rips from his throat unbidden- followed by the hot burst of fresh tears making his vision blurry. There are already rain droplets collected on his glasses, so when the tears drip down and splatter against the lenses, he can’t even tell the difference. He wants to go home. He wants to curl up in his sister’s arms and cry and have her comfort him like she did when they were young. 

But he can’t go home. Maybe he doesn’t really have a place to go home to anymore. Not like this. Life is cruel, and any chance at happiness he may have once had has been stolen from him along with the lost years of his life. 

His knees feel weak, and they threaten to give out on him as he quietly sobs to himself, eyes shut tightly and hands clutching at the fabric of his sleeves that have already been soaked through from the downpour. A soft thudding noise catches his attention after a moment, but he doesn’t look up. Whatever was coming may as well happen. He’s too tired to care anymore. 

The noise comes to a stop just beside him, and at the same time, rain stops beating down on his fragile, thin form. Sheer confusion makes him look up, and even though his glasses are blurry with raindrops and tears, he’s able to make out the scarecrow looming over him. There’s an umbrella looped around his outstretched arm, standing miraculously upright and shielding Akaashi from the storm. 

Oh, how he wishes he could understand this strange creature. 

A small, pitiful smile finds its way to his lips as he looks up at the turnip head, and he reaches a hand out to grasp the scarecrow’s pant leg. Something to hold on to. Anything. 

“You’re too kind to me. Thank you for caring.” He says, sniffling quietly and reaching his other hand up to swipe at his eyes under the glasses. As he has come to expect, the scarecrow is silent, but it doesn’t move away from him, and keeps the umbrella carefully situated above the old man. 

The door flies open behind them, suddenly, and Hinata’s voice rings out urgent and desperate as the redhead rushes over to Akaashi, ignoring the rain entirely. 

“Akaashi, please, I- this is really bad, I don’t know what to do but Master Bokuto- he- I think he’ll listen to you, please help me!” Hinata begs, both hands reaching for Akaashi’s sleeve and then hesitating- hovering awkwardly like he’s afraid Akaashi will break if he touches him. 

The desperation and fear in Hinata’s eyes makes Akaashi’s stomach twist sharply, and he looks up at the scarecrow again with a sad smile and mutters out another quiet, “thank you”, before nodding at Hinata and allowing him to pull him back inside. Bokuto aside, he can’t leave Hinata and Tsukishima like this. He can’t let his cowardice keep him from at least  _ trying  _ to help the two of them. Not after all they’ve done for him so far. 

When he comes back up the stairs, the house has lost its distortion, but the atmosphere is decidedly quite heavy still. Bokuto is slumped heavily over the edge of the massive fireplace, oozing an obscene amount of greenish goo from all over his body. It makes Akaashi nauseous, almost, but then he sees Tsukishima panicking as the liquid starts to creep around the last log he’s burning on. 

“Bokuto- hey, stop! You’re going to drown me- this isn’t funny, cut it out!” His eyes dart over to Akaashi, wide and a little terrified. “Akaashi,  _ please _ , do something, he’ll kill us both!”

Akaashi looks at the wizard, acting like a pouting child who’s been scolded by a parent, and he just takes a breath and sighs heavily. If this has happened before, then it was manageable. Just one of those bits of Bokuto’s personality he’d wondered about before. Apparently his flair for the dramatic didn’t end at just sweeping strangers into the sky. 

“I just cleaned these floors, you know.” He says, looking to Hinata and offering a small smile. “He’ll be fine. He’s just being a bit childish. Could you go run another bath? I’ll get him cleaned up.” 

Hinata looks over to the wizard, and then to Tsukishima, who nods, and then dashes towards the stairs. “I’m on it!” 

Akaashi wastes no further time moving to grab another two logs to throw on top of Tsukishima’s pile to tide him over and give him a little more distance from the little lake of goo trying to encase him. Tsukishima thanks him and heaves a sigh of relief, and then Akaashi pulls off his blazer and rolls up his sleeves to pull at Bokuto’s arm. 

“Come on. Up. I’ve had enough of your pity party.” He says, but the arm in his hand stays limp, and Bokuto just mutters something unintelligible. Akaashi rolls his eyes, tugs Bokuto’s shoulders up so he’s not slumped over the fireplace anymore, and grabs the back of the chair he’s sat in instead. “You’re coming whether you like it or not.” 

It’s a bit of work pushing the chair across the floor with Bokuto’s weight in it, and the viscous trail of slime that drags behind him, but Hinata comes back down after a moment and helps him get to the staircase. Once they manage to get Bokuto arranged to stand with his arm draped around Akaashi’s shoulders, Hinata rushes back upstairs to make sure the bath doesn’t spill over. 

A wet thud catches his attention halfway up, and he furrows his brows in confusion when he looks behind them to see what might have made the noise. Bokuto’s towel is lying innocently on a step, soaked in slime and definitely  _ not _ covering the wizard anymore. Akaashi feels embarrassment flush his cheeks, and very pointedly avoids looking back down as they finish ascending the staircase. 

This isn’t exactly the job he signed up for, he thinks, but it’s okay. 

For now, he belongs here, either way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Recklessly cram a coffee shop AU into my HMC AU just to have a little KageHina interaction? It's more likely than you think. I really couldn't resist the sort of... I dunno, symbolic? I guess? scene with Akaashi, cursed as an old man with a crush on a handsome "younger" man, watching Hinata, DISGUISED as an old man, openly flirting with a "younger" man and getting a little jealous. Kageyama might know what Hinata really looks like, but Akaashi doesn't have the same luxury with Bokuto. Poor boy. Anyway. 
> 
> Kudos and comments appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think, the serotonin good comments give me fuel my motivation for writing more. Feed me that good good validation lol


	5. Conversations and Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto's past becomes a little clearer, and Akaashi resolves to free him from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY so sorry it took me so long to update again! I'm having ideas for other fanfics throwing themselves at me left and right and keeping my mind focused on ONE thing is... difficult. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Changed up a bit of the lore again but... y'know... I gotta make things work somehow. 
> 
> Also listen I have 1 brain cell and was talking about HMC to a friend the other day and accidentally called Howl Bokuto instead... out loud... with my mouth... so if that doesn't tell y'all how deeply invested I am in this fic then idk what will.
> 
> AND WE'RE HALFWAY THROUGH THE MOVIE NOW, TOO! Things are about to start getting more intense soon, so get ready for the real action to happen!

It’s calmer when Akaashi gets Bokuto cleaned up and settled into his massive bed. Despite Hinata telling him that the wizard doesn’t allow anyone into his room, he’s given no trouble when he pushes open the door and carries the man in. 

Once Bokuto is dealt with, Akaashi returns downstairs to clean up the residual mess- only to find that Hinata is hard at work scrubbing up the mess. It touches something in his heart, and he smiles fondly as he approaches from behind him. 

“That’s very sweet, Hinata.” He praises, and although he feels quite physically exhausted, he moves towards the broom closet to fetch a scrub brush. He’ll need to get in the cracks, even if the redhead has already mopped up the majority of it. 

“Well, I mean, you had your hands full, right? Ah- no, I got it!” Hinata bounces up when he sees Akaashi pulling out the brush, and bolts over to place a hand on the older man’s shoulders. “I can take care of it! Um, I just… I wanted to thank you for helping us out, y’know?” 

Akaashi feels a little blinded by the sunny smile he’s given, and he can’t help but smile back and nod his head. They still haven’t had a proper meal yet, after all, and the goods they had bought at the market needed to be put away, too. He lets Hinata clean, and busies himself putting away the various fruits and vegetables and meat he’d bought. He’s glad that he had managed to buy Tsukishima’s strawberries before the incident in the harbor, and the demon is willing to forgive the lack of cake when the sweet fruits are offered to him. 

Sandwiches seem the easiest option, given how drained he feels, and though it isn’t anything particularly fancy, Hinata still grins brightly at him and loudly chirps his thanks before digging in. They both sit at the table to eat, and it might have been nice if not for the tense silence that hangs in the air between the three occupants of the room. He’s sure all of their minds are still focused on the incident and how Bokuto is doing, and even when Hinata and Tsukishima try to start up their usual banter, it dies out quickly and Akaashi is left with thick knots coiling around in his stomach. 

He isn’t certain what will happen next. The thought that he’s made Bokuto upset with him grips at Akaashi’s chest more than he’d like to admit. Remembering the rage in those beautiful golden eyes has his heart skipping a beat, unsure whether he feels more afraid of or sad for that expression. Maybe it’s both. 

Convincing Hinata to let him help clean when their lunch is done is no small task, but Akaashi knows he’ll go mad if he just lets himself stew in his uncomfortable thoughts for too long. Together they manage to get every drop of goo cleaned up in just shy of two hours, and then Hinata politely returns to his room to catch up on the studying he’d put off for the day. 

Tsukishima, as it turns out, actually makes quite good company, now that Akaashi has managed to slip into his good graces. The fire gives him what looks like a nod when he comes back down with the last bucket of dirty water to dump from the slime that had trailed into the upstairs hall, and he pours it down the drain before taking a seat at the chair before the fireplace. 

“You shouldn’t have had to see that.” Tsukishima says, and he sounds… ashamed, almost. Or something like it. 

“We all have bad days. I’m just not fully used to the magical part of a bad day, yet.” Akaashi replies, reaching over to toss another log into the pile. He’s given a wry smile, and then Tsukishima sighs and turns his gaze so that he’s looking just past Akaashi’s right shoulder. 

“How are you coping with all of this? I’m sure it hasn’t been easy.” 

Akaashi thinks for a moment, letting his head fall back in the chair and staring at the ceiling. “I’m not entirely sure that I am coping. Things just keep happening before I can process it all, and I just have to keep going. Whether I understand it or not, I can’t just stop.” He starts, and his fingers begin to slot together and wring nervously before he can even think about it. “I should apologize. I think you all would have been better off if I hadn’t ever opened that door.” 

“Excuse me, but I much prefer a  _ clean _ living space than the pile I was dwelling in before.” Tsukishima huffs, and Akaashi looks back down to offer him a smile- to which the fire just crackles and rolls his eyes. “And at least one person calls me by my  _ name _ .”

“Are you so sure about that, Tsukki?” Akaashi hums, and then snickers when the fire groans and fixes him with a hard stare. The demon may be a little tough to get through to, but his roundabout way of telling Akaashi that he’s grateful helps loosen the knots in his gut a little. 

“I am fully capable of incinerating you, I hope you’re aware.” Tsukishima warns, letting a bright ember flicker off and drift menacingly close to Akaashi before it burns out and lands as a fragile piece of ash on the front of his shirt. 

“I believe you. But I’d like to think that, as my friend, you wouldn’t.” 

“Who says we’re friends?” 

“I did. Are you denying it?” 

Tsukishima frowns and looks away, and the wood crackles a little louder beneath him. By now, Akaashi has figured out that this type of crackling is the fire’s equivalent to blushing. The core of him goes just a little brighter, too, and it’s sort of adorable. He finds himself snickering, and Tsukishima glares even harder at the curtain his eyes seem to be fixed on.

“We’ve never been able to do that, by the way.” Tsukishima says after a while, briefly glancing up in the general direction of Bokuto’s room and then immediately back down. “I’ve been around longer than Hinata, so I’ve seen it a few more times, and I… I know how helpless he feels. And it’s not like Bokuto would ever  _ try  _ and make us miserable, but he gets… caught up, sometimes.” 

Akaashi nods, thinking back to the times he’s been hardly able to drag himself out of bed on his bad days- sometimes for several days at a time. He knows everyone worries for him, but it doesn’t make it any easier in the moment. It’s painful, and all-consuming, and logic is drowned out by the negative emotions until the world feels like a gaping maw, ready to swallow him up. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever put up quite so much theatrics, but I understand how he feels, a little. I’m sorry you’ve had a rough time.” Akaashi mutters, looking down and forcing his fingers apart again. Old habits, and all that. 

“It’s… not that, exactly. It’s not like he’s always that way. His ego is a creature of its own, so it’s usually pretty difficult to get him like that.” Tsukishima sighs, finally looking back at Akaashi. “But at the end of the day, he’s human. More or less, anyway. I can’t always understand what upsets him, and Hinata is still just a kid. Neither of us are really equipped to handle all that.” 

“I don’t think anyone is, not really-”

“No, but you don’t  _ get it _ .” Tsukishima interrupts, flaring up a little bigger to get his attention. His features look more serious and honest than anything he’s shown Akaashi so far. “Nobody else  _ is _ . Except you. Anyone else would have run screaming and never come back. You snapped him out of it faster than I’ve ever seen.”

Akaashi huffs an incredulous laugh and motions in the direction of Bokuto’s bedroom. “He’s still wallowing. I wouldn’t consider that ‘snapped out’ of anything.”

“He’s flooded the upstairs three times before. That little slug trail is nothing compared to how bad it’s been before. And the shadows usually break a  _ lot  _ of stuff. Take the compliment, old man.” Tsukishima snaps, but his eyes soften a little at the last line. 

Akaashi looks down, and then towards the staircase, and his fingers lace together again. He isn’t sure how to respond, until the fire makes a noise like he’s clearing a throat he doesn’t have, and pulls his attention back to the flames. 

“He uses a lot of energy casting those spells. He might want a cup of tea.” 

A smile spreads across Akaashi’s face, and he nods again as he rises from the chair. He already knew Tsukishima was sharp, but this more, well,  _ gentle _ side of him fills Akaashi with warmth and comfort. He’s sure the demon knows he wants to check on Bokuto, and he’s all but being encouraged to do so. 

They talk a little more while Akaashi goes about fixing two cups of tea, and he’s grateful when Tsukishima supplies that Bokuto likes his tea with loads of cream and honey. It doesn’t take long for the electric kettle to boil, but their conversation flows easily enough now that the more uncomfortable part of it is out of the way. Tsukishima even gives him a bit more sass before he sets the mugs on the tray and makes his way up the stairs. 

It’s somehow both more pleasant and familiar than waking up in his own bed behind the shop. 

No answer greets him when he knocks on Bokuto’s door and quietly requests entry, so he gently nudges the door open and peeks in. It almost looks like the wizard is asleep, if not for the way his arm is thrown over his eyes, and his breath subtly hitches when Akaashi steps inside. 

“Sorry to disturb you. I brought tea.” He says, hesitantly moving towards the bedside table and trying not to get too distracted by how much his heart aches to see Bokuto like this. Aside from the arm draped over his face, Bokuto’s body is totally lax under the thick quilts, and silent. There’s a deep frown set on his full lips, and Akaashi longs to do something,  _ anything _ to get back that warm grin that he’s grown used to. 

This isn’t the way he wanted to learn more about the wizard’s personality- but then, when did things ever work out well for Akaashi?

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks, carefully balancing the tray in the crook of his arm and shuffling around the knick-knacks and debris on the nightstand to clear space for the mug. There’s no verbal reply, but when he looks over, Bokuto is shaking his head slowly. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, lamely, putting down the mug and grasping his own by the handle to fold the tray under his arm. Bokuto is silent still, and Akaashi feels like it’s getting harder to breathe with the way his chest is caving in on itself. 

“I’ll… leave you be. Your tea is here, plenty of honey and cream if you want it.” Akaashi says, swallowing around the lump growing in his throat and turning away before Bokuto can see him break apart. 

He doesn’t even get to take a step before his wrist is seized in a tight grip, and the warmth of the palm against his skin makes him go stock still. Panic wells up in his chest, and he prepares himself to be shouted at again, or layered with another curse, or simply thrown out forcibly. 

None of those things happen, and he certainly isn’t prepared for the soft voice that waver up to his ears. 

“Stay.” 

The command is gentle, and Bokuto’s tone is pleading, and when Akaashi slowly turns back around he sees beautiful gold eyes fixing him with a soft stare. The look breaks Akaashi down even further, but this time it’s not as painful of a blow. Bokuto  _ wants  _ him there. 

He smiles- despite the tide of emotions washing over him and leaving him a confused mess- and gestures at the cup of tea for the wizard. 

“Are you thirsty?” He asks, quiet and careful, but keeping his eyes carefully trained on the cup. He’s not sure he can bear to look Bokuto in the eye right now, not with the sadness lingering there. He doesn’t see it, but he can hear the fabric rustling as the wizard shakes his head ‘no’ again. 

Keeping in the sigh that threatens to break loose, Akaashi lowers himself into the chair by Bokuto’s bedside and takes a moment to fully look around the room again. There are thick books stacked everywhere, some of which are decorated with jewels in their spines that glitter and sparkle in the light. Various strings of herbs are hanging all over, along with what must be magic charms and talismans in shapes that Akaashi couldn’t begin to describe. There are feathers here and there, brightly colored potion bottles, spools of thread whose purpose is thoroughly unknown, and strange looking metal and glass that must have a magical use that Akaashi cannot guess. Everything that looks like actual decoration, rather than clutter, is intricately designed with beautiful detail- though it gets a little lost when there’s simply  _ so much  _ to look at. There are also crystals, and gears and something like a metronome- all of which are moving idly and producing steady clicks and whirs in the silence that hangs between them.

The chaotic- but strangely hypnotic- mess surrounding Akaashi is a stark contrast to the organization he’s used to with his own tools at the shop, but the ticking gears are calming, and he finds himself relaxing to the rhythm. 

Bokuto huffs out a frustrated breath after a moment, drawing Akaashi’s attention back to the wizard. Beautiful gold eyes are fixed distantly at the ceiling now, and it makes it a little easier to look at Bokuto’s face- and he really is handsome, especially with his fluffy, dual-toned hair swept prettily over his forehead and hanging just a little in front of his eyes. 

Akaashi longs to reach a hand out and brush it away, but he holds still, instead, and waits for the wizard to say something. 

“I’m being hunted, you know.” Bokuto speaks, finally, still staring blankly upwards. 

“By the Waste Warlock?” Akaashi prompts, taking a small sip of his tea and watching the other man nod minutely. “I… one of his goo things was at the harbor, earlier.” As soon as it’s out of his mouth, Akaashi’s eyes widen and his breath catches as he remembers. 

In this body, he hasn’t seen one of those things with Bokuto around. Bokuto doesn’t know that he was the man in the alley that day. Akaashi, the way he is now, is simply a strange old man who (to the wizard’s knowledge) has never seen the creatures before. 

But if Bokuto thinks anything of it, he doesn’t mention it. 

“Can I tell you something?” The wizard asks, still not meeting Akaashi’s eyes for a moment. 

“Of course.” Akaashi answers.

Finally, a little spark of clarity flickers in Bokuto’s eyes, and he turns them slowly and silently until they’re locked with Akaashi’s. The breathlessness comes back again, but this time it isn’t anxiety or fear causing it. 

“I’m terrified of that guy. Honestly, I’m sort of a coward. All this-” Bokuto briefly raises a hand about a foot off the bed and making a weak gesture around the room, “- all this is just to keep me hidden. I’ve got all this magic, and I just use it to hide. How pathetic is that?” A weak chuckle, and then the wizard is sighing again and turning his head away to look at the letters crumpled up on his nightstand, just beside the tea. “I hide from everything and everyone.”

Akaashi wants to speak immediately, but he feels that he should choose his words carefully. This is a confession. This is a side of Bokuto that is nothing like how the man usually is. There is no trace of the charming, eccentric, happy wizard that Akaashi had come to know so far. 

This Bokuto is scared, open, and raw. It scares Akaashi in a way he can’t put a name to. 

“Boku-”

“That’s something else.” Bokuto cuts him off, and turns his face back to Akaashi- but the smile he gives is shaky and forced. Guilty, almost. Remorseful. “My real name’s Koutarou. I mean, Bokuto is my real name, too, but it’s not  _ my  _ name. Just another thing I use to hide, y’know? Not even Hinata knows.” 

Akaashi feels dizzy, quite suddenly. Bokuto has just given him his first name. Hinata has been here for a few years already, and Bokuto hadn’t told  _ him  _ yet. He’s known Akaashi less than three days. 

What the  _ hell  _ is happening?

“Should… do you want me to call you that, instead?” Akaashi asks, unsure how to continue the conversation without that permission taken care of. 

Bokuto searches his face for a long moment, and in his nervousness, Akaashi idly brings a hand up to adjust the thin wire frame glasses and push them further up his nose. By sheer force of will alone, he manages to hold the wizard’s gaze, thinking it impolite to look away now. The wizard’s smile grows a little more genuine after a second, and he nods. 

“Yeah. While it’s just the two of us here. Still not ready to tell Hinata, though, so don’t blow my cover, ‘kay?” 

Akaashi feels a small smile come to his own face to mirror Bokuto’s, and he slowly reaches a hand out to lay atop the wizard’s. He half expects Bokuto to jerk his hand away in disgust, but it lays still and relaxed beneath his palm. 

“Your secret is safe with me, Koutarou.” The syllables feel a little strange on Akaashi’s tongue, but the hint of a spark that lights up in Bokuto’s eyes and the short flash of teeth he receives make him want to say the name over and over and over. Anything to make him smile. 

“Yeah. I know I can trust you, ‘Kaashi.” Bokuto says, and then his hand moves very hesitantly under Akaashi’s, going palm-up and then curling his fingers around Akaashi’s to give him an appreciative squeeze. The genuine, heartfelt, earnest expression on Bokuto’s handsome features, the soft-looking hair that frames his face, and the firm hold on his hand fill Akaashi with another kind of longing, then, and Akaashi is powerless to stop the way his heart picks up in his chest. 

He looks away when it all suddenly becomes too much, because they still have a problem to solve, and this conversation isn’t going to be pleasant. He can’t allow himself to get swept up in the moment- to be distracted by how much he wishes he could wake up next to that smile. It isn’t ever going to happen, anyway. 

“Can you tell me why the Warlock is after you, anyway?” He asks. Bokuto’s fingers tense around his own at the question, and he regrets asking immediately. 

“We used to be friends, actually.” Bokuto says, surprisingly quick despite the tension that the question thickened the room with. “We learned magic together, way back when. Same master and everything. But he started to look into some darker stuff- forbidden magic and curses and stuff. And I... “ He stops for a minute, furrowing his brows and looking away and gritting his teeth, “I’m no saint, either. But I was younger, and didn’t understand. I learned my lesson, though. He never did. And he got obsessed with me, too, because I ended up just having more latent magic ability at my disposal. So our Master took me on as his solo apprentice, outside regular academy classes, and… I dunno, he was jealous, I guess. And he let it consume him. Got himself banished. Now he’s hellbent on eating my heart and stealing my power. So I did what I was best at. I ran away.” 

Akaashi is silent, but a shiver runs up his spine as he remembers the terrifying, sharp features of the Warlock, and imagines how he would look while proclaiming that he would  _ eat his heart _ . The thought makes him feel ill with fear. 

“I can’t keep running though.” Bokuto continues, squeezing Akaashi’s hand again- tighter this time. “I have to answer the summons from the king. But I’m supposed to be two separate people, and I don’t want to fight in this stupid war anyway. Who wants to die doing something they don’t believe in?” 

Those words resonate within Akaashi, and he thinks back to his old life- to the clock shop that he never really had a choice in taking over, and the little town that he felt he could never escape, and the tiny apartment behind the shop that he was sure would be the place he would live for the rest of his days. Discontent. Alone. 

And suddenly, he’s angry, and sad, and determined to never let Bokuto feel that same sort of emptiness and fear ever again. Not if he can help it. 

“Then don’t go. Refuse the invitation. They can’t  _ force  _ you.” He says, tossing a glare at the crumpled letters and wishing they’d catch flame. Who knows. Maybe burning those would make Tsukishima happy. 

Bokuto huffs a laugh out of his nose and points up at the wall behind him with his free hand, still not looking back at Akaashi. 

“See that letter there?” he asks, the frown on his face deepening.There’s a piece of beautifully decorated stationary pinned over a dartboard above his head on the wall, with writing in a language Akaashi is not familiar with. He does recognize the royal crest, though, and is both impressed and intimidated by the sharp image of a crow in flight. It’s a letter of certification of some kind, and it’s been stabbed through with darts, scissors, and one jeweled dagger that looks like it’s passed through it more than once. The paper is still intact, despite the multiple cuts that split the strange ink characters in pieces. 

“That’s what says I have to go. They made me sign an oath when I went to the Royal Sorcerer’s Academy. It’s binding. I have to report any time I’m summoned.” 

“Then go.” Akaashi says, furrowing his brows and gripping Bokuto’s hand a little harder. 

“Wait, are you serious?” Bokuto asks, whipping his head back with wide, confused eyes and his brows raised so high they’re almost completely obscured by his loose hair. 

“Yes. Speak to the king himself. This war is awful and unnecessary, talk some sense into him and change his mind. Tell him that you won’t join his foolish endeavor. He’s a relatively reasonable man, isn’t he? He has plenty of others to help him. He won’t miss one wizard.” Akaashi smirks then, but there’s no sharpness to it- just teasing. “Especially a cowardly one, right?” 

Bokuto gasps suddenly, and he bolts upright in bed with a look like a lightbulb has just lit up in his mind. He lifts Akaashi’s hand in his own and holds it up between them, his signature blinding grin on his face as he cradles the palm between both of his own and leans closer to the old man. Akaashi isn’t sure how to react, but he can feel his eyes widen and his heartbeat pick up in the shock of the moment. 

“‘Kaashi! You’re so smart! Brilliant! I got it!” Bokuto exclaims, crowding further into his space with such enthusiasm that Akaashi can only blink and go still, hinging on his every word. “I’m no good at talking about stuff like that but- but you are! You could go for me!”

“E-excuse me?” Akaashi balks, eyes widening further and anxiety brewing hot in his gut. “How could- What do you expect  _ me _ to do?” 

“It’ll be easy! You can pretend you’re my father, and tell the king that your son is just too weak and pathetic and scared to join the war! That I can’t even show my face!” Bokuto says, his voice growing in volume and his face coming closer and closer until Akaashi has to shrink away from him. “And if it works, maybe Master Sugawara will finally get off my back, too! If they hear how pitiful I’ve become, they couldn’t possibly want me, right?”

“Who… who is Master Sugawara?” Akaashi finds himself asking, and Bokuto rolls his eyes and pulls back a bit, his grin doesn’t fall. He looks proud of himself, and Akaashi is too relieved at seeing the wizard back in good spirits to even begin to deny him what he wants. 

“He was my Master. He taught me a lot while I was his apprentice, and he’s the official sorcerer of the king, too. He’s wanted me to come back for years, but I don’t want anything to do with that life anymore. I just wanna be free, you know?” Bokuto explains, and Akaashi just nods lamely as he grapples with the knowledge that Bokuto trained under  _ the king’s sorcerer _ . 

As ridiculous as he could be at times, Bokuto was utterly  _ brilliant _ at the end of the day. Just maybe not the way most people might have expected. 

Akaashi is so busy drowning in the tidal wave of information he’s just learned about the wizard that he almost misses it when Bokuto squeezes his hand again, holding the pressure there for a moment. Questioning. 

“Okay.” Akaashi agrees quietly, but without hesitation. 

Bokuto lights up again and his eyes grow a little misty when he catches Akaashi’s gaze again. 

“You mean it?”

“I do, Koutarou.” 

Bokuto launches himself out of bed and throws his arms around the old man, laughing loud and joyous. Akaashi freezes when his face gets buried in the wizard’s shoulder, and the strong arms he’d dreamt of settle warm and a little crushing around him. 

“You’re the best! You’ll be incredible!” Bokuto cheers. Akaashi can feel the vibrations of his voice rumble from the wizard’s chest into his own, and he heaves a sigh and lets his own arms come up to wrap around Bokuto in return. 

His eyes close before he can fully embrace him, but the short glimpse he gets of his own hand almost looks smooth again. Young. Must have just been his imagination, though. 

He breathes in deeply and takes Bokuto’s scent of woodsmoke and pine, and something a little heavier that makes his shoulders relax and his mind go hazy and warm. Comfortable. 

Home. 

“Thank you, Koutarou.”

* * *

Akaashi feels jittery all morning. Tsukishima and Hinata are vaguely aware of what’s going on, but the specifics of Bokuto’s plan have been left out of their explanation. They both stare at him curiously as he tugs on his blazer, and then winds the soft blue, worn scarf around his neck. 

“Aaakaaashiii,” Bokuto whines, pulling the quilt he’s got draped over his shoulders a little tighter around himself and frowning as he shuffles closer to the old man. His hair is still loose, too, fluffed out in all directions and amplifying just how damn adorable his pout is. “Why are you wearing that old thing? It’s not even that cold out, and it doesn’t match your clothes now.” 

It’s true, Akaashi knows. Bokuto had spent quite a bit of time enchanting Akaashi’s outfit; he darkened the color of the blazer to a dark navy that complimented his eyes, patched the frayed seams and hems, whitened the button-down shirt, and had it all tailored to fit the old man perfectly. He even went as far as fixing Akaashi’s shoes, making them shiny and comfortable and new. 

But the scarf brought him comfort, and he wasn’t about to go before the king without something to help keep him calm. He has the old fob watch tucked away, too, for good measure. But Bokuto doesn’t need to know about that. He doesn’t need the wizard going and fixing that, too. 

“I’m wearing it, and I prefer it like it is.” Akaashi answers simply, adjusting the garment just a little around his neck before looking to Hinata and smiling as he holds his hand out. The young man steps forward and hands him his cane with a smile of his own, and Akaashi reaches out to ruffle his hair lightly at the same time his hand curls around the metal crow head atop the cane. 

Hinata snickers and lightly bats his hand away, but he looks genuinely happy when he pulls back. 

“Good luck!” 

“Good luck.”

Hinata and Tsukishima speak at the same time, and then things go still while their gazes meet, and suddenly they’re bickering with one another again, something about ‘don’t copy me’ and ‘don’t speak over me’. Akaashi just rolls his eyes fondly and makes his way to the door as their arguing gets louder and more sarcastic with each word.

“‘Kaashi, wait one sec!” Bokuto yells out, and Akaashi pauses with his hand on the doorknob. He hears a rush of footsteps, and then an odd rustle of fabric, but Bokuto is suddenly behind him before he can even turn to look up at him. 

The wizard’s broad, strong chest drapes across his back, and a gentle hand comes up around him to coax Akaashi’s hand off the cane for a moment- just long enough for his other hand to come around him and slip a beautiful silver ring onto his index finger. There are delicate roses rising out from the metal, and vines twisting down and around the sides of it, and at the top sits a small, smooth-cut sapphire that shines beautifully even in the dim light of the bottom of the staircase. 

“It’s a charm. It’ll keep you safe, no matter what. It’ll bring you home.” Bokuto says, his voice low, but soothing. When Akaashi turns his head, he catches sight of the wizard’s soft smile and encouraging eyes. 

And he almost feels like nothing can go wrong, even without the charm. But he still takes pause, because if he needs to be kept safe, that means that something could cause him harm. 

Whatever expression is on his face makes Bokuto snicker, though, right in Akaashi’s ear. He feels his face flush with heat as the wizard gives his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling back just a bit. Akaashi immediately misses the warmth across the expanse of his back. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you, in disguise. You won’t be alone.” Bokuto soothes, giving Akaashi a small pat on the back before pulling the door open and gently pushing him forward through it. 

The royal city of Shiratorizawa is dauntingly grand before him, and the citizens passing by on the street are so well dressed that even with Bokuto’s magic, Akaashi feels plain by comparison. Not that it’s a particularly new feeling, but he’d felt quite sharp just moments ago. Now that small bit of pride was dashed, and his nerves are slowly tangling themselves into knots. 

The job needs doing, though, so he steps forward regardless of his small spike in anxiety and sets off in the direction he’d been given. 

The walk, he finds, is actually rather pleasant, despite the situation. It’s warmer here, but the breeze is cool and gently waves the colorful banners and shop signs and flowers hanging in window boxes. The buildings in Shiratorizawa practically dwarf those of his hometown, rising high up in the blue sky and mostly painted attractive, complimentary shades of periwinkle and sage green and cream. Even the brick-paved streets add to the rich aura of the city, and it’s beautiful, really. Just not as beautiful as the passing hills and valleys and bodies of water the castle has shown him so far. This place doesn’t even compare, if he's honest.

As he makes his way along, his eyes wander between the other occupants of the streets around him. He wonders if he can pick out Bokuto among them- tries to suss out who or what the man has disguised himself as. A little calico cat peeks out from around a corner to look at him, but it skitters off when he smiles and waves at it. A lone crow squawks out at him from a laundry line, and he raises an eyebrow at it and gets nothing for his effort. He subtly glances behind himself every now and again, seeing if there’s anyone that follows him for more than a block or so, but nobody stands out there, either. Above, a soldier on a small, personal aircraft flies by with a pretty girl on the seat while the soldier bravely stands to her side and controls the steering apparatus with one hand. Both people are laughing, while the pilot swerves them playfully in the air, and Akaashi rolls his eyes as he considers maybe  _ that  _ guy is Bokuto.

The slight bitterness he feels at that thought makes him walk faster. 

By the time he’s made it to the massive brick wall that rings the center of the city, he’s given up trying to locate the wizard. Soldiers line the path as he passes under the huge archway leading to the inner city, where the wealthier, elite citizens meander aimlessly between the shops lining the stone-paved royal road. A few ladies in richly colored dresses and bustles shoot him odd looks as he pushes on down the road, but he pays no mind to their murmurs and giggles. They probably haven’t a real thought in their heads, anyway.

Halfway to the gate that will welcome him onto the palace grounds, he hears a quiet wheezing noise from behind him, and turns his head to see a small, chocolate brown dog following him on stumpy little legs. The little thing seems to be struggling to keep up, and it might be cute- if the fur hanging long and thick from its body didn’t almost entirely obscure its face. 

There’s no way. 

“Bokuto?” He whispers back at the thing, and its nose points up in his direction for a second before it huffs out another raspy sound and moves a little faster to keep up. 

Well, then. 

“Is this really the best disguise for this?” Akaashi sighs, facing forward again and frowning absently at the palace gates. “Who knows if they’ll even let a dog inside? Perhaps we should have waited and planned this out better.”

All he gets in response is another wheeze, and he rolls his eyes and goes silent. He doesn’t any more suspicion cast on him, and talking to a dog as if it were a person wasn’t exactly his idea of sane. 

He’s only another thirty or so yards from the gate when another noise catches his attention, and it makes his blood run cold. The slap of oversized shoes and a wet squelch draws his gaze to his right side, and a mix of anger and horror fills him when one of the Warlock’s henchman slips into his vision. Behind it is a tiny palanquin that looks like it would barely even seat  _ Akaashi _ , and when the curtain draws back, he’s met with sly eyes and a smirk that makes the old man seethe with rage. 

It almost makes him  _ violent _ . 

“Oh, my! What an excellent coincidence to see you again!” The Warlock purrs, tapping his chin with one long, slim finger. “I hoped I’d run into you again, someday. Wanted to thank you for delivering my message to Bokuto. How is he, by the way?” His tone is casual, even playful, and every syllable making Akaashi’s muscles draw up tensely. 

“Awfully bold of you to be here, isn’t it? How’s that banishment going?” Akaashi bites out, shooting a withering glare at the Warlock and picking up his pace a bit. 

He’s given a snarl, and there’s a tap inside the palanquin that urges the gooey henchmen to move faster. 

“ _ I  _ was  _ invited _ , old man. Master Sugawara finally acknowledged that he needs me for this war, and I fully intend to decline his offer and humiliate him before the day is through. You didn’t answer my question, by the way. Bit rude, isn’t it?” The Warlock hisses back, the brim of his oversized hat tipping up when the man sneers down at Akaashi. 

Akaashi grits his teeth and sets his eyes forward, his cane digging a little harder than necessary against the pavement with each step. 

“Bokuto is pathetic,” he lies, hoping maybe one way or another he can convince the Warlock to just  _ leave him alone _ . “He can hardly do anything for himself. I’m not sure why you would be so obsessed with such a weak fool.” 

“Oh, dear boy, I may have cursed your tongue, but you needn’t twist the truth so. I know that man better than you ever will, there is nothing you could hide from me.” The Warlock hums, and Akaashi doesn’t bother looking over to see what sort of expression he has. “So, what brings  _ you  _ here, anyway?”

“I told you,” Akaashi snaps, “Bokuto is insufferable. I’ve come to find a better job than cleaning up that man’s messes. Perhaps find a solution to my- mmnh-” Akaashi’s lips snap shut and refuse to open the moment he tries to mention the curse, and the Warlock beside him bellows out laughter that makes him see red for a moment. 

“Must be rough! This little curse really is a good one, I’ve outdone myself this time! Poor thing, can’t find anyone to help you out, hmm?” 

“If you’re so good at magic, why don’t  _ you  _ do it? There’s no need for it anymore, is there?” Akaashi snaps, eyes darting to the side and angrily taking in that  _ damn smirk _ that meets him. 

“Sorry, but breaking curses never was as fun as casting them. I’m afraid I just never cared to learn. I wish you luck, though, truly.” The singsong voice that the Warlock speaks in betrays his sarcasm, but Akaashi is glad when the curtain flutters closed again and the palanquin moves past him after another loud tap. 

Akaashi takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself and keep back the list of insults he’s compiling in his mind. At least most of his nerves are gone, now- replaced by white-hot rage and a determination to get Bokuto freed from the king’s service if only to spite the Warlock. The dog behind him huffs again, as if to remind Akaashi of his presence, and his shoulders relax minutely. He isn’t alone, at least. 

“What a piece of work.” He grumbles, glancing back at the dog and watching as its long, drooping ears flap comically when its head bobs with another wheezing noise. “Was he always so intolerable?” Another wheeze, and Akaashi can’t help but chuckle at that one. 

When he looks back up, he’s almost at the gate- and just beyond it, he can see the palanquin slow to a stop as the goo creatures begin to melt dramatically. They’re still valiantly trying to move the thing, but their bodies squish and shrink until the Warlock opens the door to bark at the things to move. A nearby soldier doesn’t even spare the man a glance, keeping his perfect posture as he announces that magical vehicles are prohibited on the palace grounds, and Akaashi has to hide his snicker behind a hand at the outraged scoff from the Warlock. 

“Oh, how unfortunate for you. How awful it must be to do something for yourself.” Akaashi snipes as he strides past, raising a brow challengingly at the Warlock and earning himself a huff. Once again, the Warlock is draped in clothes that must be uncomfortably heavy, and the set of the stairs leading to the palace looked like hell even to anyone dressed lightly. 

Perhaps he would be able to see the Warlock choke under the weight of his cloak, after all. 

“Watch it, grandpa.” The Warlock snaps, straightening himself to his full height and holding his chin up in a display of superiority. To Akaashi, it just looks like arrogance. 

“I wish you luck. Truly.” Akaashi mocks, his tone even and uncaring. If he’s lucky, maybe he’ll even make it up the stairs more quickly and rub it in the Warlock’s face. 

Hardly four steps up, the Warlock is already breathing heavily with the effort to drag his cloak up with him, and Akaashi smirks when he makes it up past him almost immediately. This is doable, certainly. Perhaps it’s petty, but he wants nothing more than to outdo the other man some way or another. He’s sure, in fact, that he can do this- until a desperate wheezing noise comes from behind him, and he turns to see the dog still on ground level, unable to climb the steps with Akaashi. Of course. 

“Are you serious?” He groans, turning back and stomping back down the steps, maybe a little harder than strictly necessary. The dog is heavy, despite its small size, and Akaashi sucks in a breath at the effort of lifting it by the undersides of its forelegs and carrying it up. “Do you weigh the same amount as usual? Is that why you’re so heavy? Shouldn’t you have thought of this beforehand?” 

The dog just wheezes, and Akaashi rolls his eyes and keeps pushing forward. Heavy as the dog might be, they still manage to make it up the first flight of steps just barely ahead of the Warlock- who has now broken out into a heavy sweat and looks decidedly miserable. Akaashi sneers down at him and moves on to the second set, only to hear that grating voice call out after him. 

“How… how are you… doing it?” The Warlock whines, barely able to speak between his harsh panting. “You’re  _ ancient _ … shouldn’t be… so spry!” 

“And you’re young. Shouldn’t be so incapable.” Akaashi bites back, huffing a bit himself as his arms and thighs start to ache a bit. 

“You could…  _ help  _ me, then… ugh… don’t be selfish!” 

“I could, if you would undo the spell! I’d have plenty of energy to spare were I young again!” 

“Do your… ears not work?” The Warlock spits, pausing to catch his breath at the first landing even as Akaashi continues ahead. “I can’t… break the curse. Only cast.”

Akaashi hums in a bored way, and doesn’t bother looking back. “How unfortunate.”

“You’re cruel!” 

“Look who’s talking!” 

Nearly halfway up the second flight now, Akaashi groans and sets the dog down on a step, trying to catch his breath and give his burning muscles a short rest. Behind him, the Warlock is struggling to haul his body up the steps, and the hair that had been pristinely styled before was now plastered unattractively to his forehead with sweat. The sight makes him smirk, and he wipes his own barely damp forehead with the back of a hand. 

“You know, you wouldn’t have such a rough go of it if you would just take off that ridiculous cloak.” Akaashi says, and the sharp glare that’s directed at him loses its edge with the utterly pathetic state the Warlock is in. 

“Mind your tongue, clock boy. I’ll not… present myself to Master Sugawara… looking like a  _ peasant _ .” The Warlock huffs, pulling the cloak even tighter around himself defiantly. “I have waited…  _ fifty years _ … to be invited back here! I will be treated… with respect!”

“Let me know how that goes for you.” Akaashi says simply, then scoops up the dog again and continues on his way. 

“Coldhearted…  _ bastard _ … just wait until… I come up with a  _ better _ curse for you!” 

From there, Akaashi sees no need to bicker with him further. He indeed makes it to the top of the steps first, and when an attendant tries to usher him inside, he looks back at the suffering Warlock and flashes the attendant a sly smile. 

“I’d like to be sure he makes it to the top, first. I wouldn’t want the poor man to tumble all the way back down.” He says, and then peers down at the Warlock and gives him a little wave. “Oh, you can do it.” He coos, as sarcastic and demeaning as he can muster. “So close, now.”

“Shut it.” The Warlock huffs, body slumped and shaky as he approaches the last ten steps. 

“You wanted help. I’m only trying to encourage you and be sure you make it to the top.”

“Condescending…  _ ass _ …” The Warlock gasps, clutching the cloak tightly as if it will make it easier to haul up. 

When he finally does make it to the top, Akaashi shoots him a taunting smirk, but gets nothing in response aside from a frustrated groan and a roll of eyes. The swell of accomplishment in Akaashi’s chest makes him feel invincible for the moment; that he could have the chance to show up the very Warlock who threw him into this situation in the first place was so deeply satisfying, it outweighed his anxieties entirely. 

With a new air of confidence, Akaashi nods to the attendant. And despite it all, the cursed man and the man who cursed him step into the palace together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI sorry for the awkward cutoff and my long rambling and exposition but there's SO MUCH information crammed in the movie that writing it all out is... a struggle. I hope you guys enjoyed it, though! So far in the fic Akaashi hadn't been very sassy bc of all of his worries and stuff, but now that he's more or less accepted it all I could finally write my boy as the sarcastic and blunt man he normally is. It's way too fun writing Akaashi snark at everyone.
> 
> If you liked it please consider leaving a comment! Let me know what you think about it and what stands out to you in particular! Thank you!


	6. Misjudgment and Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi finally meets the man who could sway Bokuto's fate, and all his apprehensions still cannot prepare him for the way he's seen through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI YEAH IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I UPDATED AND I'M REALLY SORRY!!! I fully intend to finish this story, but I'm having to go a little slower to not overwhelm myself with it all. I can't promise to have a regular update schedule but we're a little over the halfway point now and I think this will end up probably 5? 6 more chapters? Idk there's still a lot to get through but I think from here on out is gonna be a bit less exposition and a lot more story progression.
> 
> Anyways I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Everything about the castle makes Akaashi feel small. From the high ceilings arching above his head, to the impressive oil paintings and tapestries lining the walls, with gilded frames that looked like they cost more than the clock maker might make in his lifetime. Even the floors were a warm, dark marble tile, polished to almost perfect reflection. 

He can see his own wrinkled face, unrecognizable except for his eyes and glasses, and frowns. 

“I leave you here, gentlemen.” The attendant tells them as they come to a stop outside of a pair of double doors. One glass doorknob is turned, and the attendant pushes it open and gestures inside. The first thing the both of them notice is the single, oddly placed chair sat directly in the center of the room. Their reactions are in stark contrast. Akaashi is instantly suspicious and hesitant, having learned by now that if something seems odd and out of place, it probably is. 

The Warlock is instantly greedy. 

“A chair!” He gasps, still dripping in sweat and looking more and more disheveled with every step. The whole way his hands had remained curled tightly around his cloak, knees shaking from the effort of lugging it around, and Akaashi thinks now that perhaps the thing isn’t always so weighty. He hadn’t seemed so bothered when he was in the shop, so perhaps a spell had been cast on it then? 

If those blob things had melted away to nothing, what else of the Warlock’s magic had been drained since he crossed through the gates?

Before Akaashi takes even one step into the room, he’s seized by the arm and shoved harshly to the side, forced to make room for the Warlock to rush past him to the chair. Pursing his lips and choosing not to comment, Akaashi enters the circular room after him. There are paintings in here, too, as well as rich, crimson velvet curtains hung intermittently along the walls. It would be quite impressive if it didn’t all seem just a little… off. 

“You’re fine, right?” the Warlock huffs, sinking heavily down onto the plush cushion and letting his legs rest from the weight of the cloak. “You have too much energy, old man.” 

Akaashi rolls his eyes in annoyance, but the Warlock does seem to be in much worse shape than he is, so he lets it slide. Not that Akaashi doesn’t want to see him suffer, but right now he has more important things to worry about. 

Like, for instance, the dog that is eagerly running off down an attached hallway that splits off from the main room. 

“Hey, wait, where are you going?”Akaashi hisses, swiftly following after it as it turns a corner and leads him further away. Another wheezing sound comes from the little creature, and Akaashi clucks his tongue and has to practically chase the creature to the abrupt end of the hallway. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do. Can you really not change to something more helpful?” Akaashi sighs, wishing they could at least  _ speak _ . He has no idea what he’s doing. 

“Hello, sir!” Pipes up a voice from beside him, and Akaashi gasps and whips around to see a doorway to his right, where the wall was not a minute before. Ugh. Magic. “Could you come with me please?”

The boy is small, with warm brown eyes and a grin that could rival Hinata’s in intensity, and with ridiculous hair to rival Bokuto’s. The clothes he’s wearing are clean and well-made, but a bit rumpled on him like he was the sort of boy who couldn’t sit still. His hair is brown, mostly- aside from a blonde streak that’s half half hanging over his forehead- and styled in spikes that point back and away from his face. 

He seems exceedingly out of place, but Akaashi finds himself relaxing under the familiar grin, and moves to stand at the space beside the young man. The dog trots to stand between them before the boy pulls a lever, and the wall before them slides down. The boy turns on his heel and leads him down another corridor, presumably to where he’d be meeting Bokuto’s former Master. 

He really should stop doubting Bokuto. He is an extraordinary person, and even as an overweight mutt, he proves himself capable time and time again. 

The boy is silent on the trip at first, but he moves fast, and with a bounce in his step that reminds him so much of Hinata, it makes him homesick.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Akaashi says, struggling to keep up, “... but would you mind slowing your pace just a bit? I’m afraid I can’t match your gait.” 

“Oh!” The boy gasps, stopping and turning to look at Akaashi with wide, apologetic eyes. “Sorry! I should have considered, um, your condition. I’ll take it more slowly! I’m so sorry, sir!” He apologizes, giving a deep bow that seems just a bit too steep for such a small inconvenience. 

“That’s- it’s alright, really, no need for such formality.” Akaashi rushes to say, letting a gentle smile rest on his lips to ease the young man’s worries. “Where are we going, anyway? I thought I was meant to be in the other room?”

The boy straightens back up and fixes him with a sly, amused smile that nearly gives Akaashi whiplash. With that expression, he seems much older than his appearance would suggest; a wisdom in his deep brown eyes that strikes the clocksmith as unsettling. Although, by now he’s not quite as phased by things being more than they seem at a glance. 

“That room was reserved specifically for the Waste Warlock, sir. Master Sugawara asked me to bring you directly to him, the Warlock will be dealt with separately.” He says, spinning on his heel and striding off again down the corridor- although he slows somewhat for Akaashi to keep up. 

The comment strikes Akaashi as odd, though- had the Warlock been asked here under false pretenses? He’d mentioned that Master Sugawara had invited him there personally, right? Whether the Warlock drops dead or not, Akaashi does not care, but he  _ does  _ care if the person he’s about to meet with is the type to keep his word. This whole meeting is pointless if Sugawara promises to stay out of Bokuto’s business, and then just flippantly breaks that promise. 

“What sort of person is this Master Sugawara?” Akaashi asks, looking down at the little dog toddling along beside him nervously. He needs Bokuto’s reassurance, but the canine’s eyes are fixed ahead and don’t even bother shooting him so much as a glance. 

“He’s incredible!” The boy says, turning his head to give Akaashi an excited grin. “He’s a crazy good sorcerer, and a strategist, and the king’s personal advisor! He keeps the whole palace safe all on his own, and he barely has to lift a finger!” 

Somehow, none of those things set Akaashi at ease. A man so powerful is certainly dangerous, and with the king personally backing him, there’s no shortage of things he could do to Akaashi with little to no repercussions. The carved metal head of his cane digs a bit uncomfortably into the elder man’s palm when he tightens his grip on it, willing himself not to pull at his fingers instead. He tries to think of something else to say, but he falls short and instead grits his teeth and follows after the young man silently for the rest of the way. 

When they finally reach the end of the hall, Akaashi is led through a tall, arching door and is almost blinded by the bright sunshine after growing used to the dim lighting of the palace behind him. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, he squints behind his glasses and finds himself in what may as well be a massively oversized greenhouse. The tile floors are pristine beneath his feet, but lush foliage surrounds and towers over him- each arrangement with its own ornately decorated ceramic pot with complementary color schemes. The glass dome above his head is as impressive as it is intimidating, further cementing the feeling of being so, so small. 

He isn’t sure how much more of this grandeur he can take. 

“Sir?” Comes the boy’s voice, and a hand is gently laid over the one Akaashi has rested on his cane. “Master Sugawara is waiting.”

Akaashi snaps back to attention immediately, offering the boy a smile and then subtly pulling his hand back. Something about the boy touching the ring Bokuto had so carefully bestowed upon him felt… wrong. 

“I’m sorry. It’s very beautiful here. I got a bit overwhelmed.” Akaashi replies, gesturing vaguely to the greenery around him. The boy seems pacified by the answer, and spins on his heel to lead him around the corner and into the main area of the room. 

The moment Akaashi finally gets a look at Master Sugawara, he immediately regrets every decision leading him here. In the simplest terms he can think of, Sugawara is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. Bokuto, perhaps, is the only exception. He can’t do this, it’s too much, how could he possibly bring himself to hold a conversation with the ethereal  _ angel _ perched in that plush wheelchair? He has to turn around, he-

“Oh, hello! It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Sugawara chirps, turning a charming smile in Akaashi’s direction and setting down the quill he’d previously been scratching over some document or another. “Thank you, Noya, that will be all.” 

The boy- Noya, apparently- bows deeply to the sorcerer and then immediately takes his leave without further prompting. Akaashi’s breath catches when bright hazel eyes settle on him, and the little beauty mark on Sugawara’s cheekbone lifts up a bit when those eyes crinkle at the corner in a welcoming grin. 

“Come closer, I promise I don’t bite.” Sugawara says, gesturing to the chair sitting opposite himself with the hand that is not actively curled around an intimidatingly tall staff. 

Akaashi sucks in a breath, reminds himself that this is for  _ Bokuto _ , and straightens his back to stride over to the chair. He offers his gratitude quietly before taking the seat, and lets out a sigh when his overworked legs are finally allowed a break from all the walking and the  _ stairs _ . 

“So, I finally get to meet Bokuto’s father, hmm? I’ve always wondered what sort of man could have sired such a brilliant mind.” Sugawara begins, and Akaashi does not miss the way his eyes roam unsubtly over his body. All he can do is pray that his disguise isn’t seen through, somehow. 

“Ah- yes, he’s very talented. I’m a lucky parent.” Akaashi says, willing himself not to immediately begin tugging on his fingers. Instead, he folds his free hand over the one holding his cane and feels the comforting warmth of the metal ring under his palm. He glances to the side, too, seeking out reassurance in the form of the little dog- only to find the thing trotting unhurriedly around Sugawara’s chair and resting himself under the table to the sorcerer’s left. His brows furrow, and he does his level best to hide the alarm in his voice when he asks, “Is that your dog?”

“Hmm? Oh! Yes, of course you’d be confused, poor dear.” Sugawara clucks his tongue and reaches a hand down to stroke the dog’s fur, a sparkle of fondness in his eyes. “This is my errand dog, Asahi. I sent him to make sure you got here safely.”

So, not Bokuto, then. Akaashi’s blood runs cold, and he has to grip his cane tighter to keep himself grounded. The wizard said he’d follow right behind, said he’d be there to  _ protect _ Akaashi, but now it was just him and Sugawara and some stupid mutt and-

“So, as you may know, I’m Master Sugawara, king Daichi’s Head Sorcerer and former headmaster of the Royal Sorcerer’s Academy, et cetera, et cetera. We aren’t really here to talk about me, right? Tell me, how is Bokuto?” Sugawara asks, pulling Akaashi’s attention back up and to the hazel eyes fixed patiently on him. 

“He’s seen better days.” Akaashi answers plainly, with a small shrug of his shoulders that he hopes conveys an air of fatherly disappointment. “I’ve had to come live with him just to keep him fed and bathed. Quite an inconvenience for this old man, as you can imagine.” 

“Oh, boo, I was hoping I might see him today, too, but I suppose he won’t be joining us, then?” A pretty pout curls the sorcerer’s lips down, and Akaashi wonders if maybe he’d been too quick to fear the man before him. He seems genuine enough, and he’s a pleasant sort of odd that Akaashi is sure would charm anyone. His manner is calm enough that Akaashi finds his shoulders relaxing bit by bit, and his heart rate slows and clears his mind with it. 

“I’m afraid not. I couldn’t drag my useless son out of bed today if I tried. All he is now is a lousy coward. I believe if he were to be called to war, he wouldn’t last a single day.” It hurts Akaashi to even imagine losing Bokuto, and lends to his acting ability when he tries for pity. “He may be a burden, but he is all I have. Please don’t take him away.” His voice cracks on the last word. 

Sugawara’s eyes turn soft at that, and his smile goes smaller- more pitying. A good sign, Akaashi thinks. 

“I’m sorry to make you think of such unpleasant things. It’s a pity my last apprentice didn’t quite pan out the way I was hoping he would. I intended to have him succeed me, some day.” Something flashes in Sugawara’s eyes for a moment, barely enough of a flicker for Akaashi to decipher properly, but he doesn’t think it’s anything good. “But then he went off and got his heart stolen by a demon in an ill-conceived bid for power. Didn’t even care to finish his apprenticeship. All that untrained power is incredibly dangerous. I wish I could do something to save him, but unfortunately he’s gone too far down the wrong path.”

Anxiety flares up hot in Akaashi’s chest at the direction Sugawara seems to be heading, and the smile falling away from the sorcerer’s lips has every muscle in the old man’s body growing tense and reckless. He can’t even manage to try and defend Bokuto before Sugawara is speaking again, and confirming his worst fears. 

“Is Bokuto does not manage to control himself enough to fall in line, then he will end up just like the Waste Warlock.” Sugawara’s eyes look past him, then, and Akaashi finds himself turning in his chair just in time to see Noya wheel in a small cart with a vaguely familiar figure hunched atop it. 

Akaashi gasps audibly and throws a hand over his mouth in horror as he takes in the Warlock’s appearance. He’s shrunk- almost enough to be comical if it weren’t so cruel- and he’s  _ aged _ . He looks like he’s twice the age of Akaashi, except most humans didn’t live that long. It would be nearly an impossible task to count the deep wrinkles etched into the Warlock’s face, and he’s grown hunched and weak and tiny in the heavy garments pooled around him on the cart. 

“What did you do to him?” Akaashi breathes, his hand shaking in fear as he reaches out to carefully unclasp the cloak from around his neck and let it drop away from too-frail shoulders. Wishing the Warlock would choke on the weight of his cloak and actually seeing it for himself were two entirely separate things. This was more cruel than even Akaashi’s curse. 

“I exorcised him.” Sugawara says, tone much too casual and friendly for the fear currently crawling up Akaashi’s spine. “He was really something, back in the day. Almost as powerful as Bokuto was, even. But then he got taken over by a demon of greed. I swear, those two just  _ had  _ to follow in each other’s footsteps. I don’t take these things lightly, you know. I really can’t stand the thought that two of my very own apprentices could cause more harm in this war. They are dangerous and lawless, and if they fail to behave, I will remove the threat of their powers.”

Akaashi has not bothered to look at Sugawara since the Warlock was brought in, but the sorcerer’s finality in his last statement makes his head snap back so fast, he’s surprised he doesn’t hear a crack. It takes approximately three seconds for Akaashi’s shock and dread to turn to white hot rage. Any other day, he’d be shrinking away and trying to not make a fuss and just get out of there unscathed, and he isn’t sure why he’d hit by a sudden streak of boldness, but he finds his hand clenching into a fist at the clear warning he’s been given. 

The threat here is not Bokuto. Akaashi knows now that Sugawara is exactly the ruthless, sly, unforgiving man he’d first imagined him to be. 

“So all this is a trap, then?” He starts, fixing Sugawara with an angry glare over the rim of his glasses. “You just lure in any wizard who doesn’t agree with you and take away their way of life? Bokuto may be misguided, but he’s the most caring man I’ve ever known!” He stands, then, with much less difficulty and pain than he anticipated, but he’s hardly focused on that. “He’s a good person, and if I know anything about him, it’s that he would never dare to harm  _ anyone _ ! Which is more than I can say for  _ you _ , evidently! He won’t come here and be your next victim. He can find the right path without you forcing him into it.” 

Akaashi swears he can hear his voice clearing as he speaks- can swear that he’s standing stronger on his legs, and that his back is growing more straight and tall. He feels…  _ young  _ again.

“He’s incredible all on his own. You don’t have to believe in him, because  _ I _ will believe in him enough for the whole world.” 

Despite the insult and defiance in Akaashi’s rant, Sugawara’s face is not twisted in anger, or even offense. Instead, bafflingly, there’s a gentle smile on his lips, and his brows have drawn together in a way that looks almost as pitying as before. 

“Oh, darling, I understand. Your sweet heart couldn’t help falling in love with him, could it?” Sugawara coos, and Akaashi sucks in a breath and jolts back almost violently. 

Hearing those words out loud has his body growing weak and sore and hunched again, and the hands that had gone oddly steady are back to trembling minutely. The youth that had come over him was gone entirely now. 

“I never-” 

“Bokuto?” Comes a raspy, withered voice from Akaashi’s side, cutting him off before he can stutter through some lie or another. “Did you say Bokuto was coming? Tell me, tell me!?” The Warlock begs, finally able to move again now and using that freedom to dig his fingers desperately into Akaashi’s pant leg. “Bring him! I-I need his heart, his power, get him right now!”

“N-no, he won’t- he’s not coming, let go-” Akaashi tries, reaching down to try and pry the Warlock’s fingers off him, and Sugawara rings out a laugh that silences him. 

“You really think so, hmm? I’ll have to disagree, now that I finally figured out his weakness.” Sugawara purrs, raising one eyebrow almost provocatively at Akaashi and letting his grin turn just a tiny bit more sinister. 

Akaashi’s eyes draw together at that, both puzzled and concerned, but before he can inquire about the meaning behind Sugawara’s words, there’s an insistent humming noise from just outside the glass dome that draws their attention instead. Through the clear door, Akaashi can see a tall, muscular man in a handsome black and orange uniform landing a small personal aircraft in the grass outside. Without much ceremony, the glass door is thrown open and the man strides in with a grin stretched over his face. He’s rather attractive, Akaashi thinks, and when he speaks, his voice is deep and booming and commanding of attention. 

“Suga! Just the man I’m looking for, how are you doing today, my dear incredible master sorcerer?” The man says, moving swiftly to Sugawara’s side and patting a hand down on his shoulder. 

Sugawara smiles pleasantly and bows his head politely in return. 

“Daichi, what a fortunate coincidence that brings you here, now. I’m doing well, today, thank you.” 

Daichi. King Daichi. Akaashi is in the presence of royalty, and he feels his head spinning with anxiety. As much as he respects the king, he doesn’t fully agree with his sovereign, and he prays that if nothing else, he is ignored entirely. If he says the wrong thing to the  _ king _ …

Of course, he isn’t lucky enough to be overlooked, and warm brown eyes slide almost lazily over to meet him straight on. 

“Oh? Am I interrupting? Who are your guests?” The king asks, cocking his head to the side curiously and glancing only briefly at the Warlock before firmly settling his gaze on Akaashi. 

“This is Bokuto’s father. He’s come aaall the way here by himself to refuse Bokuto’s summon on that poor, scared wizard’s behalf. Isn’t that just sad?” Sugawara sighs, shaking his head mournfully and clicking his tongue in disapproval. 

Daichi hums thoughtfully, then abandons Sugawara’s side to take the few steps separating him from Akaashi. He seems to study him for a moment, and then grins brightly and slaps a hand down on the old man’s shoulder. Akaashi nearly jumps out of his skin, and has to force himself not to squirm under the intense scrutiny of his king. 

“That’s really brave of you to come and speak for your son! It’s moving, really, and I’ve got some good news for you! Bokuto won’t need to come after all, since I’ve decided not to keep relying on magic to win my battles.” Daichi says, turning his grin back to Sugawara but letting his hand linger on Akaashi’s shoulder. “You’re getting tired, right, Suga? Magic won’t work forever, and it’s not getting the results we want anyway. No point wasting the efforts of every wizard in the kingdom.”

“Wow, Daichi, I never would have thought of it like that. What ever would I do without you? I have to say though, you’re rather excitable today, aren’t you? What’s gotten my king in such a good mood?” Sugawara purrs, smiling slyly and tapping one long, elegant finger lightly against his chin in thought. 

“Ah, well, you know-”

“Suga, I’ve revised our defensive strategy again at your suggestion, and found weaknesses in our guard. I’d like your recommendation for how to fix these holes here-” Another voice rings out, growing louder as King Daichi rounds the wall of plants Akaashi had entered through. A second King Daichi. There was a much more serious expression on his face, and his eyes were glued to the documents held tightly in his hands. “And I have word back from the scouts in-” 

Everything stops when the second Daichi looks up and meets the eyes of the first. Akaashi’s breath catches, and tension seems to rise thick and heavy in the room. It takes him all of two seconds to put together what’s going on, and dread settles deep in his stomach at the thought of whatever was about to happen. It was all over. Bokuto was going to be caught and executed for impersonating the king, Akaashi would be thrown in prison for conspiracy, everything he’d done had been in vain. 

Daichi smiles. There is absolutely no trace of anger or distrust when he looks at Suga and hands over the papers. 

“You’re getting good at these doubles, Suga. I almost thought you’d brought a mirror in.” His eyes glance to the side and he looks a bit bashful when he finally notices the other two occupants of the room. “Oh- I didn’t realize you had guests. I’ll come back later when you’re free, please forgive my intrusion.”

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, my king. I’ll be finished with my business shortly, come back soon?” Sugawara asks, taking Daichi’s hand and squeezing it lightly. 

“Of course. I’ll be right back, then.” With that, the king gives Sugawara’s hand a gentle squeeze, releases him, and swiftly makes his exit again. 

The tension immediately re-settles, and Akaashi’s eyes stay fixed where he last saw the second Daichi disappear behind the foliage again. In the silence that follows, he can almost imagine the steady sound of a clock ticking in the stillness. He’d always been calmed by that sound, but now the thought of it has his blood growing colder and colder with fear. 

“I’m glad you could make time for a visit, Bokuto.” Sugawara says after a minute. An hour. A lifetime. 

“Well, you know,” says the other man, but it is no longer Daichi’s voice. It’s one that manages to soothe Akaashi’s worry despite the clear danger they’re facing. One that makes him feel like he’s  _ home _ . “I’d been meaning to drop by for a while, but things have just been so busy lately. Nice to catch up though, huh?”

Sugawara hums an agreement and carefully sets aside the documents he’d been given before resting his chin on his hand. “It is nice. Shame your acting hasn’t gotten any better. That’s the worst impression I’ve ever seen you do.”

“Ah, yeah, but that’s alright. I’m not really here to show off anyway, just show up!” Bokuto says brightly, and when Akaashi feels a muscular arm settle protectively around his shoulders and draw him closer to a warm body, he finally manages to look back over and see the stunning grin that he’s engraved on his heart. “That’s what the summon was, right? So I followed instructions, I’m here, hooray! Gonna have to decline your offer, though, I think it’s time for the old man to get some rest.”

There’s a note of finality in Bokuto’s tone at his last sentence, and a challenging gleam shines in his gold eyes at the same moment his grin takes on a sharper edge. Sugawara chuckles at it, and the expression on his face twists predatorily to match. 

“I don’t think I’m quite satisfied with our chat, yet.” The staff in Sugawara’s hand is raised then- barely an inch or so- and taps back down on the ground with a sound that resonates far too loud and lingering for the gentle impact it made. The floor beneath the staff ripples out like water for half a second, and then from the center surges an immense wave of water that crashes down violently around Akaashi, Bokuto, and the Warlock. 

Akaashi gasps a half second before he’s hit, and his eyes close in fear even as the strong arm around him held even tighter to him. There’s a rush of coolness over him, but it feels more like a stiff breeze than a wave of water, and when his eyes wrench open in confusion, the scenery around them has completely changed. 

The resemblance to the strange dream he’d had was uncanny. 

Once again, they were in the air, floating miles above a long stretch of green hills, with the sun sinking low on the horizon and bathing the sky purple and red and orange. Wind roars loud in his ears, stinging his cheeks and eyes and freezing him to his core. His leg aches from where the Warlock is clinging to him, dangling and barely kept from falling by apparent sheer force of will alone. 

But Akaashi isn’t looking at any of that. He’s staring straight ahead, trained on the spot where Sugawara was across from him not a moment ago. He feels as if he looks away, somehow, he will fall. 

“Hey, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto murmurs at his side, pulling the older man even tighter against him, “I know it might be tempting, but don’t look down.”

“My, so kind and caring and protective. You put on quite the show, Bokuto, but does he really know anything about you? How about we give him a look at what you really are.” Sugawara’s voice says, cutting through the wind and yet still managing to sound like it was coming from barely a few feet away. 

Above them, the sky grows darker, and a flicker catches Akaashi’s attention before there are stars streaking brightly across the night sky. Some of them land far in the hills below, some of them pop and fizzle out of existence, and others burst hot and blinding around them, far too close for comfort. One sears his eyes for a moment when it comes just before his face, and when he manages to blink away the burn, there’s a circle of stars ringed around them. From the bright centers have extended tiny, ethereal bodies, and Akaashi watches as their little arms raise and join together, linking them all together as they begin to spin slowly around them. 

Puzzle pieces click together in Akaashi’s mind loudly, and what he’d thought was just some sort of illusion was beginning to look a lot more like a ritual. He remembers, suddenly, the perfectly circle room that the Warlock had rested in before he’d been reduced to his current state, and panic surges through him as things grow clearer and clearer. And yet, before he can put himself together enough to voice his thoughts aloud, the disturbing sound of bones cracking fills the air around them. 

Bokuto’s grip on his arm… changes. It grows, somehow, and when Akaashi looks over he sees that where sturdy fingers once curled around his bicep, now instead were massive black talons and banded white and brown feathers. Like an owl. 

Akaashi snaps his gaze to Bokuto’s face, and the wizard is gritting his teeth tight enough to be painful, with his brows drawn together as feathers sprout from his skin and grow to monstrous size right before Akaashi’s eyes. He can see Bokuto’s canines sharpen, his pupils narrow, and his hair disappears in the mass of feathers transforming him. His gaze is fixed ahead at the spot Sugawara had been, and he shows little reaction to the wings that burst from his back aside from a deep, primal growl that Akaashi suspects is involuntary. 

“B-Bokuto, please, we have to get out, it’s a trap!” Akaashi pleads, curling his hands in the shirt that miraculously hasn’t been ripped entirely from Bokuto’s body yet. “I know you can do this! If anyone can get out of this, it’s you!” 

Sharp gold eyes cut straight into Akaashi’s own, then, and even though Bokuto’s face is nigh unrecognizable by now, the clocksmith can still see the spark that defines everything the wizard is. Akaashi’s breath catches in his throat when Bokuto’s wings suddenly surge up around them, and then flap down, swift and powerful and enough to rush upwards and away from the wing of stars. 

Something falls from Akaashi as they rise, and he just manages to catch a flash of silver disappearing below him before they’re crashing through glass, and the illusion gives way to the bright light of day, and the warmth of the outdoors. His eyes are drawn to Bokuto’s face again, and finds himself unable to look away when all the feathers and sharp features melt away and turn back into the handsome, incredible man he’s fallen so completely before. 

“Hold on tight.” Bokuto says, giving Akaashi a soft grin as they fall back to the ground without the aid of his wings. Still, Akaashi is not afraid, knowing that the wizard would never let him fall, and just grins back at Bokuto with a nod. It’s no surprise when they slow to a float as they approach the ground, and the wizard settles the three of them down on the aircraft he’d appeared on earlier. Akaashi is given the single control seat, Bokuto stands leaned over from behind him, and the Warlock huddles ever closer to Akaashi’s side and holds himself to the arm of the seat for dear life. 

The glass door bursts open just as Bokuto flicks on the machine, and the little mutt that had betrayed Akaashi comes bounding out and takes a running leap onto the craft and nuzzles between the old man’s feet. By the time he’s settled down, they’re already ascending rapidly into the air, and as bitter as Akaashi feels towards the scheming little mutt, he isn’t cruel enough to kick it overboard. 

“Hey hey, ‘Kaashi?” Bokuto says beside him, tone far too casual for the fact that they’re currently speeding away through the air on a craft that is  _ clearly _ not built for this many occupants. “You ever flown one of these things before?”

“Of… of course not! How would I have-”

“Well, no time like the present! Have a go!” Bokuto chuckles, letting go of the steering wheel entirely and standing back to just watch. 

Akaashi gasps and reaches forward desperately, eyes wide as the craft loses height and stability. He frantically spins it to the left to try and keep them upright, but over-corrects and sends them careening towards a bell tower. 

“Are you insane?! I- Bokuto, take the wheel!” Akaashi cries, hands white-knuckled where they’re gripped around it. The wizard just laughs beside him when Akaashi manages to avoid the bell tower and gets them to rise further above the buildings again. 

“No way! You’re a natural! C’mon, you’re doing great!” 

“Please, I can’t-”

“Hey, you have faith in me, right? So then if I have faith in you, you’ve gotta trust yourself a little.” Bokuto says, and his warm hand settles comfortingly over Akaashi’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath, calm down, and feel the way we’re moving. You can do this.”

Akaashi is still terrified, but hearing the calm, steady reassurance has the static of anxiety clearing out from his mind as he follows Bokuto’s advice. He breathes slow and a bit shaky at first, and carefully feels out how the craft reacts each time he shifts the wheel until he’s straightened out and flying smoothly. 

“Okay. Okay, I think I got it. What are you going to do?” He asks, sure that there must be a reason for his impromptu flight lesson. 

“I’m gonna draw them away.” 

Akaashi’s head whips back to look at the wizard, eyes wide and full of concern at the implications of that simple statement. “You-”

“Don’t worry, you’ll make it home just fine, and I’ll come back as soon as it’s safe.” Bokuto flashes him the grin that leaves him breathless, and the hand on Akaashi’s shoulder slides down the length of his arm to rest his fingers against the silver and sapphire ring on his finger. “This thing’s more than a good luck charm, by the way. It’s got some of Tsukki’s power in it, and if you summon him with your heart, it’ll guide you straight home.”

Akaashi turns his gaze back to the ring, brows furrowing as he ponders what that even  _ means _ . Summon Tsukishima? With his heart? How is he supposed to do  _ that _ , it’s not like he has any magic of his own to  _ summon a demon _ . 

But he tries, anyway, under Bokuto’s bright and encouraging gaze. He thinks of the little fire, proud and strong, and kind underneath his prickly exterior. He thinks of how he was kept warm that first night in the castle, how sincerely he enjoyed the demon’s company, how Tsukishima had softly made his request for sweets before Akaashi had gone to the market. He thought of their odd, tentative friendship, and before his eyes, the sapphire began to glow. A thin, delicate string of light burst from it then, too, pointing slightly to the right of their position, and Akaashi couldn’t help the little amazed smile that crept onto his face. 

“You’re incredible.” Bokuto said, staring off after the thread of light that tapered off just a few feet before them. “Okay, now that that’s settled! This is where we part ways for a bit!”

Akaashi grit his teeth together tightly, reality coming back to him that, once again, he was headed into the unknown without Bokuto by his side. 

“I… I’m scared,” He admitted, looking back up at the wizard with pleading eyes. “Why did you have me do this? The whole point was for you not to have to go, right? This- this was pointless, wasn’t it? You’re still-  _ we’re _ still in danger now!” 

Bokuto hums pensively, but he’s still smiling and keeping his eyes straight ahead. “You saw what Suga’s capable of, right? He’s really terrifying. I didn’t think I could do it on my own, and y’know? I was kinda right.” He shifts his gaze, then, and meets Akaashi’s with warmth and admiration. “Without you, I would have gotten stuck in that trap. You saved me, Keiji.” 

Something flutters in Akaashi’s chest at the use of his given name, but before he can comment on it, Bokuto is straightening to his full height and swinging an arm out beside him. The ship seems to…  _ separate,  _ somehow, and peeling away from them is an exact copy of the aircraft, occupants and all, and Bokuto is carried away atop the fake ship and grins over at Akaashi as he goes. 

“Okay, you’re gonna be invisible for about five minutes, so get as far as you can in that time. I’ll distract them so they don’t catch on, so you just follow Tsukki’s guidance and you’ll be home in no time.” Bokuto shouts over to him, jerking his head in the direction that the light is leading. “Good luck! You’ll be amazing!” With that, the fake ship takes a sharp turn away from them, and Akaashi is left without the opportunity to protest. 

_ You can do this _ , Akaashi thinks, fixing his gaze forward and reaching for the accelerator shift to speed them along a little,  _ Bokuto believes in you _ . 

A hand reaches tentatively up from the side, then, and Akaashi jolts when it lands on his arm and holds there a bit weakly. He’d nearly forgotten about the Warlock in all the chaos, and too many thoughts cross his mind all at once when he looks down at the thin, frail creature. What was he going to do with him? Surely Bokuto didn’t want him to bring the  _ Waste Warlock _ back to the castle, right? But, he supposes, the Warlock  _ is  _ powerless now, so what harm could he really cause? Besides, Bokuto wouldn’t have let him tag along in the first place if he wasn’t okay with him being there. 

And, as much as Akaashi  _ despises  _ what’s been done to him by this very man, he may never have gotten this chance at adventure without him. Crazy and terrifying as it all was, Akaashi doesn’t think he would trade his experiences with Bokuto for the world. 

“Don’t you dare think I’m done telling you off yet.” He huffs, narrowing his eyes briefly at the Warlock before looking back to the path ahead. “You can’t do anything to me anymore, so you’d better believe I’ll be telling you exactly what I think of you when we get back. After that, Bokuto can decide what to do with you.” He’s sure the wizard won’t be cruel, but he also knows that there’s no way he’d just leave the Warlock like this. 

The Warlock is silent beside him, but his hand trembles lightly atop Akaashi’s arm, and it makes him feel just a little smug. The dog beneath the chair wheezes out what almost sounds like a laugh, and Akaashi stomps his foot right in front of the canine to hush it. 

“You’re in trouble too, mister. Traitorous mutt.” 

Before them, thick rain clouds are gathering in the sky, and even though Akaashi isn’t sure how deep into the Wastes the castle is waiting, he knows they’re in for a very long flight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are very much appreciated and motivate me to keep going! Love seeing notifications in my inbox so if you want to say something about the story, please do! Love y'all!
> 
> PS to Daishou fans I'm sorry I had to do your boy dirty like this
> 
> PPS to Suga fans I'm sorry if he's OOC I've never written him before rip


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